


In your veins

by hit_the_books



Series: Blood and Gold [13]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abusive Dean, Abusive Relationships, Alchemy, Angst, Biting, Blood and Violence, Curses, Demon Dean, Double Penetration, Dubious Consent, F/M, First Blade, Kissing, Mark of Cain, Multi, Non-Consensual Touching, Original Character(s), Polyamory, Porn With Plot, Reader-Insert, Self-Harm, Substance Abuse, Threesome, Threesome - F/M/M, Vaginal Sex, the reader dies - a lot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-01
Updated: 2016-05-01
Packaged: 2018-04-29 11:49:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 30,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5126459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hit_the_books/pseuds/hit_the_books
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Taking place in the background of season 10, you set out to return to the Winchesters after willingly going to Purgatory and then finally returning.</p><p>The journey back to the Bunker and the ones you love will not be easy. Not even for an immortal alchemist of your standing and knowledge.</p><p>A sequel to the season 9 part of the <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/series/233328">Blood and Gold series.</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Collared

**Author's Note:**

> Tags and warnings will be updated/added to as this work progresses. The polyamorous, non-Wincest, nature of the relationship between the Reader and Sam and Dean will be featured more in later chapters.
> 
> THIS FIC IS ON INDEFINITE HIATUS.

“Maria says the staff at the ol’ Lloyd ranch are hosting some re-clu-sive socialite who's rented the ranch for the next few months.”

“Ahhh… Eh, how can you be a recluse and a socialite?”

“I dunno Ben, but that’s what Maria heard. Now are you gunna get me that beer or am I gunna have to come round the bar and serve myself?”

“Alright, alright, Francis, hol’ it a minute. I’m gunna get you yer beer.” Ben’s tired hands pick up a glass, go to the tap and start to pour. “This _socialite_ got a name?”

Ben rolls his eyes and shakes his head. “Far as Maria’s pals have said, she goes by Y/N Y/S/N.”

“Never heard of her.” Francis hands Ben his beer. “Still, y’ think she’ll grace us with her presence one night?”

“What par’ of recluse don’t you understand?”

“Maybe if we have some big, huge, steak-”

“What par’ of socialite don’t you understand?”

Francis sighs. “Okay, she’s a classy lady who won’t be coming to my _fine establishment_ …” Francis leaves his sentence hanging.

Rolling his eyes again, Ben takes a sip of his beer. Ben knows that Francis is fishing for more gossip. “She brought some of her own staff. A nutritionist an’ a personal trainer. Accordin’ to Maria’s pals she’s also got some personal assistant... goes by the name Crowley.”

***

Dean looks at you like he’s seen a ghost. You hold his gaze across the bar and shift uncomfortably on your stool. Crowley had promised you would meet an old friend that night, but you’d had no idea it would be Dean.

A part of you wonders where Sam is, but then Dean gets up from his stool, whiskey in hand and strides towards you. Dean looks good, there’s no denying that, his hair softer than when you last saw him and the blood red of the shirt simultaneously speaks of danger and carnal lusts. Bow legs carry Dean confidently towards you and you wonder if perhaps he still wants to have something to do with you after you ditched his ass.

Whiskey, sandalwood and leather drift towards your nose and underneath it all there’s the tang of sulphur that you’re used to smelling from demons. But this is Dean.

“Long time, no see, Y/N.” Dean takes the empty bar stool beside you. “Let’s get you a real drink.”

You shake your head. “I’m not drinking.” Your hands circle closely around your glass of cranberry juice.

“C’mon, girl skips out on me to go save her ex in Purgatory, the least I can do is buy her a drink.”

“I’m not allowed to drink… Crowley’s got me on a detox.”

Dean leans in closer to you and focuses on the collar around your neck, like he’s seeing it for the first time. Reaching a hand out towards the collar, you flinch when Dean touches it.

“This Crowley’s work too?”

The ruby-studded silver collar sits over the silver chain of the necklace that holds your Philosopher's Stone. Your eyes flick to the mirror that runs the length of the bar and you look at the collar as it glints under your chin. The collar looks just about in place next to the little black dress Crowley had shoved your way earlier.

“It’s insurance.”

Dean strokes your collar and you tense. “Insurance against what?”

You decide to change the topic. “You’re a demon, aren’t you?”

The retreat of Dean’s hand confirms your suspicions, the sudden stiffness in his pose easy to read. His eyes flick around the bar and then he leans in closer, mouth next to your left ear.

“How’d you know?”

“I can smell you.” You take a non-committal sip of your juice and wait for Dean to respond. The lack of Sam makes complete sense now, of course you can’t help wondering how this had happened.

Dean nods and he shifts on his seat. He’s predatory and poised to strike. “Figures. How long you been back?”

“I’m not sure,” and you’re not, time had moved differently when you were first found, “a month?”

Dean’s hand wanders to your collar and throat again. You know he can’t kill you, but the added pressure is threatening and you tense. You’re sure Dean was probably pretty pissed with you before becoming a demon and now you can’t stop imagining how he might take this out on you now that he is a demon. You take a shuddering breath as the carrion scent of the Mark hits you--it had been buried under the demonic sulphur. It’s like the closer Dean gets to violence, the more the aberration makes itself known.

“Why does Crowley need insurance against you?” Dean hooks a finger under your collar and jerks you towards him, making your lips brush against his.

“B-because he doesn’t want me running off to another realm again…” You repeat an abridged version of Crowley’s words to you from when you’d first asked about the collar. “He takes good care of his business partners and he’s invested a great deal in me.”

“You make it sound like you’re his play thing.” Dean kisses his lips gently against yours and you can’t help kissing back, your old bond awakening.

Dean places a hand on the small of your back and draws you closer, fingers still hooked under the collar. The kiss becomes possessive and needy, making you let out a tiny whimper. Starved of touch and affection for so long, you’ve almost forgotten what it’s like to be this close to another person. Demon or human.

Breaking the kiss for a moment, you whisper into Dean’s ear, “Not Crowley’s play thing.”

“Good.”

Pulling you back against his lips, Dean slips his tongue inside your mouth and you taste the whiskey he’s been drinking. The kiss begins to make your folds throb and your core ache. Dean entices you nearer--you’re close to jumping onto his lap, even though your can feel dozens of eyes sneaking glances at the two of you--and you only just about stay on your stool.

“If you’re both quite done, maybe we could talk business?” Crowley hisses from behind you.

Dean’s hand leaves your collar--hand remaining on your back--and the kiss ends. “I figured we should get the meeting started without you. It’s been really productive so far.” The hand that had been on your collar drifts down to your legs and Dean brushes the skin of your thighs.

Tensing, you hope Dean doesn’t pull up the skirt of your dress an inch more than where it is. You don’t need questions about the new ink on your right thigh.

“Yes, I can see that.” Is that a hint of jealousy you detect in Crowley’s voice? The King of Hell sits down on the free bar stool beside you and orders a very colourful, umbrella topped cocktail.

“Y/N needs a real drink if she’s going to be discussing business with us.” Dean squeezes your thigh.

“She sticks with cranberry juice.”

“She? Y/N has a name and Y/N deserves an actual drink.”

Crowley lets out a sigh. “Please, Y/N, explain to Dean why you are not drinking alcohol and are in fact currently on a detox.”

Teeth grinding--annoyed that Crowley is bossing you around--you understand there’s no benefit in hiding this from Dean. The detox and the collar are Crowley’s two-pronged approach into shaping you back into a tool that is useful to him, but you’re hoping that you can pull the cord soon enough and leave his tailor-suited ass in the gutter.

A frown creases Dean’s brow, but his hand remains on your thigh. You pull in a deep breath.

“I was a mess when I popped back out of Purgatory… Crowley’s been getting me clean.” The addictions you’d cultured back when your soul had been leeching out of you had come back strongly after a mere week in the depths of monsterland.

“Clean from what?”

Blushing, you look away from Dean, embarrassed by your weakness. “Well, it’s not like there’s speed in Purgatory, but powered griffon feather’s pretty good.”

For a demon, Dean seems pretty concerned--he begins to rub small circles into your thigh.

“Y/N was a walking-talking pharmacy when she returned.” Crowley takes a sip of his cocktail. “Griffon feather is only the tip of what she’d been snorting and smoking while she was there. Oh, and tell Dean the best part darling.”

Lowering your head, you stare at the bar and refuse to look at either demon. Dean’s hand moves from your thigh to your chin and he firmly turns you to face him. His grip softens when you look into his eyes.

“What’s the best part?”

Tears well in your eyes. Your failure about to be exposed.

“I killed Simon. Took his head clean off.” A tear runs down your right cheek.

Dean leans into you and his tongue laps at the tear. He steals another kiss from your lips.

“That’s my girl.”

***

The call comes at about three minutes past eleven that night. Sam pulls over on the side of the road, parking up before hitting answer. The caller ID says “Jody”.

“Hey, Jody! What’s-”

“I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to call with this, Sam, but it’s been hectic here.”

Sam winces as the injury in his right shoulder flares up. “Call with wha-”

“A friend of a friend of a friend-- look someone got sight of a woman that fits Y/N. Some camping couple got a scare from a woman fitting her description out in the Hundred-mile Wilderness.”

“And?”

“The woman stole some clothes, a rucksack and a cell, though the guy snapped a pic of her before she ran off.”

“Did she look like Y/N?”

“I’d say it was her, though she looked…”

“She looked what?” Sam frowns, worry creeping in.

“Wild. She looked wild.”

 _I wonder what that means…_ “Any news on the cell she took?”

There’s the sound of papers being shifted on a desk. “Local law enforcement got hold of its call log from the cell company. A couple of numbers were called. One was for an older number of yours, one was Dean’s and the other… the other…”

“What was it?”

Sam listens closely to the number and a grimace flits across Sam’s face. It was Crowley’s number.

“Well, thanks for the info.” Sam reaches towards the end call button.

“Anytime.”

The call ends and Sam puts the cell down. Sam rests his left hand on the steering wheel and then he starts slapping and hitting it.

“FUCK!”

Feeling drained, Sam stops hitting the steering wheel and slumps back in the driver’s seat. He closes his eyes a moment, willing himself to calm down. The ghost of a memory makes Sam’s face redden as he recalls how your lips once felt against his.

Sam opens his eyes and feels a decade older. He was no closer to finding Dean and now he knows you’re back in the world and quite possibly in Crowley’s company.

Nothing was ever simple.

***

The sound of the latch on your window being picked open sends you scrambling up the middle of your bed. You curse Crowley’s house rules that stop you from keeping any form of blade on your person.

Leather, sandalwood and whiskey... with sulphur. You stop panicking and turn on a bedside lamp, pulling the bed sheets close around you and your nightdress. Dean opens your bedroom windows and pulls himself inside.

“Shoulda used salt.” Dean dusts his hands off and halts at the foot of your bed, eyes on your collar.

Shrugging, you pull the sheets closer about your body. “You think a bunch of demons are going to let me put salt along my windows and doors when they’re keeping a roof over my head?”

A dark chuckle bubbles out of Dean and he walks around the bed, sitting down on your right.

“We never did get to finish our side of the discussion tonight. All that talk of dwarven gold just killed the mood.”

Dean reaches out and pulls the sheets away from you. He slips his right hand onto your right thigh and you shudder with growing interest as he pulls your nightdress up…

“Wait, wait!” You try to stop Dean from pulling the material away, but you’re too late as the orange tinted black ink stares back at Dean.

“What’s this, Y/N?”

Upon your leg is your third tattoo. Written in Nordic runes so that you can read them when you look at your thigh. It’s clearly set out as a list.

“A list.”

“Of what?” Dean bends down and looks closely at the runes.

“It doesn’t matter.”

Of course it does, but you’re not going to tell Dean what’s really on the list. You’re not going to tell him on what condition you were allowed to leave Purgatory.

“What’s on the list?”

You turn away from Dean. The better question would be: who is on the list?


	2. Break out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean's surprise nighttime visit goes sideways, and Sam tries to figure out what he should do to find both you and Dean.

The wood paneled bedroom feels smaller and smaller the closer Dean gets. A huff of annoyance escapes Dean as you dodge his questions again about your new ink. The less he knows about it the better. You swallow hard and the collar around your neck pinches uncomfortably, but with Dean here it’s possible you might be able to free yourself.

Suddenly, Dean seizes your wrist and pulls your hand towards him. “You haven’t spoken to Sam once since coming back?” Dean asks, voice husky. He increases the pressure of his grip and your wrist begins to hurt. The closer Dean gets the more you can smell of him: the pungent scent of sulfur and carrion; his own odors of leather and booze and a hint of another woman. You try not to dwell on that last part.

“I did call Sam, but I didn’t get through. Why the hell would you care?” You wince.

A greedy look enters Dean’s eyes. “You been with anyone since you got back from Purgatory?”

Blushing, you shake your head. “No.”

Dean lessens his grip on your wrist.

Silence creeps out between the two of you, the room getting brighter as a full moon finally makes an appearance. The silvery glow highlights Dean’s chiseled jaw, glinting off the scruff there and shows the smile creeping onto Dean’s lips. It’s obvious where his thoughts are heading and you’re uncertain if you want to head there.

You try to stall. “Dean… how’d you become a demon?”

“Now, that is not the kind of pillow talk I’m after, babe.”

Refusing to let a shiver run down your spine, you shake your head. “I need to know, Dean.”

“No you don’t.”

“It was the Mark of Cain, wasn’t it?”

The pressure on your wrist increases again, Dean squeezing you tight. “Yes and no, sweetheart.” Dean yanks you towards him and kisses you possessively on the lips, cupping a hand to the back of your neck.

At first your lips are unmoving, but then your traitorous body responds more eagerly than it did back in the bar--you tease Dean’s mouth open. Tongue eagerly exploring Dean’s, you shake off his grip on your wrist and maneuver him to the middle of the bed. A part of your mind keeps repeating that you’ll only take this as far as you need to, because Dean is your ticket out of here.

Another part of you is wishing that Sam had found you first and helped you break out. Wishes that you were kissing him like this, that he was the first real contact you’d had since you returned. Instead? You’re straddling Dean and kissing him like his lips are your final salvation and you’re only half-remembering the plan you’d put together after the leaving the bar and realized that Dean would come looking for you.

Dean’s rough hands slip under your nightdress and caress the warm skin of your back. You writhe as your lips move together and you can feel Dean getting hard beneath you.

Pulling away from your kisses, Dean looks up at you and grins. “Clothes.”

You can’t help but agree and the two of you are hastily stripping, your nightdress comes off easily. Your hands eagerly work with Dean’s and you pull off his shirts and then scoot out of the way to remove his boots, jeans and underwear. Straddling the demon once more, you kiss Dean and rub your face a little against his scruff. Your wet folds massage Dean’s length, and you grind against him, holding onto the headboard for support, feeling yourself throb and ache to take him. Protection isn’t an issue, not since you started using the Elixir.

“Want to be inside you,” Dean growls, bucking his hips up towards you. He’s not your Dean, not quite, but Dallas was so long ago and you need him to trust you--to let his guard down enough. Dean was the key to getting the collar removed, because no other demon would let you this close.

Leaning forward a bit, you pause and then slide back, scooping Dean’s hard cock with your open folds. Balancing him just outside your wet hole, you slowly begin to lower yourself onto Dean. Moans bubble appreciatively out of both of you. Dean tilts his face up and kisses you along your collarbone, hands gripping onto your thighs.

Starting slow, you raise and lower yourself, Dean’s hands moving with you. The tease of his wet lips and scruff along your chest spurs you on, each bounce of your hips on Dean making you wider and wetter. It had been too long, but as your body begins to sing with pleasure--heart rate jumping, skin burning--you try to keep your head about you, because you can’t just fall asleep after this. You need to make your move while Dean is blissed out from getting what he wants from you.

A wet mouth encircles your left breast and you cry out, eager and happy. Dean’s tongue works your nipple, teasing it into a hard nub or aching flesh. Shifting your hips and increasing your pace, you can feel your own orgasm building as you get Dean’s cock to graze your G-spot with each downwards movement.

“I missed you, Dean,” you manage to say between panted breaths.

The fullness and pressure inside of you winds you closer and closer, the just right friction making you teeter on the edge. Dean pulls his right hand away from your thigh and brings it between you, finding your clit with ease. He slicks you with your own wetness and begins to circle and rub that sensitive bundle of flesh. Maybe he just remembers you really well or it's some demon based intuition, but Dean knows how to work you just right. The movement is too much and you cry out, coming.

“Fuck, Y/N, fuck!” Dean yells, looking up at you, eyes drinking you inasmuch as they can, while they flutter between open and closed, your pleasure seeming to pull Dean closer to his own.

Hand returning to your hip, Dean helps you bounce on him faster. A grunt followed by a cry rumbles out of Dean, his own pleasure reached and he spills into you.

Slowing yourself down, you rest on Dean, nuzzling between his left shoulder and neck. It was now, never or a date far too late into the future. Kissing the skin by Dean’s neck you start to bite and suck down. Harder and harder until Dean finally takes notice and snarls. You draw blood.

Releasing Dean from your jaw and pulling back, you see Dean look at you with confusion and anger, his right hand covering the wound you inflicted. His eyes look upon your mouth and the blood you can feel around it. Holding out your right hand, you spit out Dean’s blood onto your palm and then quickly smear it over the damned collar.

There’s a hissing sound and then a large gap opens in the silver. Using your blood smeared hand, you yank the collar off and throw it across the room. There’s movement out of the corner of your eye, Dean shifts beneath you and then you feel a piercing pain in your left side. Looking down at your torso, you see the First Blade sticking out of you, Dean’s right hand tight on its bony hilt. Dean pulls the blade from you and everything turns black.

You know there are worse ways to die.

***

Sam’s been hopelessly tracking Dean for weeks. Finding out that you’re topside again makes Sam feel like maybe he can get some good news for once. Except for the part where he needs to try calling Crowley… again. Except for that part.

It’s around 2am and Sam is in the Bunker trying to eat in the kitchen, cereal thick in his throat. He didn’t really sleep once he got back the previous night, but he forces himself through the motions, not ready to try for sleep again. Forces himself to keep going. He needs to be there for Dean and knowing you’re back means he needs to be there for you too.

Every few minutes or so, though, a little voice pops into Sam’s head and points out that maybe... _maybe, Y/N doesn’t need you. She didn’t need you or Dean to get her ass into and out of Purgatory. She’s not tried contacting you since that first call, so why worry?_ A tired hand rubs at Sam’s forehead and chases those thoughts away.

To Sam’s left is his cell and he picks it up. Letting out a long breath, he finds Crowley’s number and dials it. The call rings and rings, before finally going through to Crowley’s voicemail. Sam doesn’t bother leaving a message and hangs up. It’s not like the King of Hell has bothered answering any of his other calls. The demons Sam’s tortured are proof enough of this.

Cereal bowl empty, Sam stands and goes to wash it. Banged up shoulder getting in the way, he slowly cleans the bowl. The Bunker stretches out around Sam, silent and emptier than he ever wanted it to be, even when he made Dean give him some space after the whole Gadreel mess. Cas is holed up somewhere and Sam… he hates being this alone. Returning to the table, Sam picks up his cell and tries calling Crowley again.

The call rings and rings, and goes to voicemail. Sam knows when he’s being screened. _I need a new plan_.

***

Light floods your vision. Dean’s hands angrily seize you by the tops of your arms and the demon brings your face level with his. One moment Dean’s eyes are their usual beautiful green and then they flick to black.

“Shouldn’t have done that, sweetheart.” Dean’s hands increase their vice like grip upon you.

Trying not to struggle, you say in the least scared, but most seductive voice that you can manage, “I would have thought that you wouldn’t want me to be Crowley’s plaything, so now I’m not. I’m free. Free to be with you.”

The eyes that gaze upon you flick back to green and Dean smiles. “That’s my girl.”

Dean pulls you close and unceremoniously licks your face clean of his blood and then grabs your hand and licks that clean too. Once you’re blood stain free, he leans back against the headboard and pulls you back onto his hips.

“So, we breaking out of here or what?” Dean asks, a deeply mischievous grin forming.

“Only after we get dressed and break something else out first,” you reply, lifting yourself from Dean’s lap. You step onto the floor and go looking for some fresh, regular clothes. You retrieve underwear, a pair of combats and an old band t-shirt from several drawers.

“Is it gonna piss off Crowley as much as you being sprung?”

“Probably.”

Dean goes over to you and pulls your jaw into his right hand, forcing you to gaze up into his eyes. “Then lemme be your Clyde.”

***

Excitement rolls off of Dean and you can’t help being infected by it. Crowley’s been good to you both, in his own ways, but you’re not after a fix anymore and it’s pretty clear Dean just wants a chance to fuck with him. The ranch is pretty much deserted at this hour in terms of the human staff, but there could still be the odd demon crony mooching about. The hallway is lit by the light from the moon filtering in through the odd window.

“I’m saying there’s only so many games of foosball I can play, only so many drinks with umbrellas in that I can stand looking at, y’know? And he’s clingy.”

Dean sounds pretty human as he talks, walking behind you. _Remember, he’s a demon. Remember, he’s a demon_ \--goes around and around in your head as you draw closer to your target.

“Don’t worry, I know. There’s only so many wheatgrass shakes a girl can drink too. I haven’t had a burger since I got topside.”

The footsteps behind you stop and you turn round to face Dean. An expression of disbelief paints his face. “Seriously, not one burger since you got back? That’s criminal… that’s almost as bad as not allowing you to drink booze.”

You shrug. “I’m getting out now. Eating some real food is high on my to-do list once I’m off the radar again.” Turning, you continue to walk to your destination, a small bag of greyish-brown powder feeling heavy in your hand despite its lightness.

Dean follows you. “And just what was the deal with those old Etch-a-Sketches, the foil and rusty nails back in your room?” He hisses.

“You must have seen season one of of Breaking Bad, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Then you’ll get it soon enough.” The heavy wooden door to your prize looms ahead in the light of the moon.

The door opens easily. Inside the study, sitting on a shelf on the furthest wall is a small safe, about four feet wide by three feet tall and three feet deep. You walk over to it and examine it, then head over to the study’s only desk. Pulling a black plastic cylinder from your pocket--the kind photographic camera film use to be come in--and a length of string, you put the bag of powder on the desk alongside these other inconspicuous items.

Dean watches as you begin to pack some of the grey powder into the old film tube before adding the string to the mix. There’s a roll of Scotch tape on the desk and you pick that up and carry it and your tube back over to the safe. Carefully, you secure the plastic cylinder to the rotary combination lock on the front, checking the string is secure while it dangles from your payload. You had tried finding out the combination, but to no avail.

“Matches, please,” you ask Dean, holding out a hand towards him. Dean steps over and places the book of matches in your hand. “I suggest you step back.”

Shrugging, Dean heads back behind the desk. Wasting no more time, you strike one of the matches and light the string. It’s not the best fuse in the world, but it’ll have to do. You stand back a ways, but not as far as Dean.

The small flame travels up the string and then finally reaches the powder stuffed into the cylinder. Seemingly nothing happens at first, but you cover your eyes with the back of your arm.

“Y/N, is this-”

Dean’s cut off as the fizzling uproar of the thermite reacting takes place. Metal and plastic bubbles and burns, the air in the room growing thick with smoke. Then it’s over. You pull your arm away and look at the safe.

A cooling puddle of metal and plastic is on the wooden floor, only just stopping short of igniting it. The safe’s lock is gone. Dodging the mess, you ignore the pain the searing heat pushes through your skin when you grip the safe door through its new jagged opening and pull the door open.

The bagged and boxed contents inside seem relatively unharmed. You’d managed to position the thermite just so and use the right amount to only really harm the safe.

“What is this stuff?” Dean’s looking over your shoulder, standing right behind you. You pull a grocery bag out of another pocket and start placing the safe’s contents inside it.

“Souvenirs from Purgatory. Sorry, but your crossbow got busted while I was there.”

A noncommittal grunt escapes Dean and he pulls you away from the safe the moment you finish bagging everything up. Hand on your jaw again, Dean studies your face closely. Something’s running through his mind. You swallow--hard.

“This stuff rare?”

“Yeah. Crowley’s not going to be happy it’s gone. Or that I’m gone.”

A predatory grin spreads across Dean’s face. “Oh, I already know that you’re one of a kind.”

“Charmer.”

Dean swoops down and kisses you on the lips. He breaks the kiss and smirks. “Suppose we better get out of here, Heisenberg. Your chest is still inside Baby.”

“Thanks for looking after it.”

Grabbing your right hand, Dean begins to pull you out of the study, heading back towards your room. “I really couldn’t be bothered to try dragging it out. You know how much that thing weighs to anyone but yo-”

A light flicks on in the hallway and Dean stops. In front of you stands your nutritionist, a demon inside a slender woman with long blonde hair.

“And who might you be?” Dean half growls.

“Once Crowley’s done chewing you out, I doubt knowing my name will matter,” answers the demon.

Dean pulls the First Blade out of his back right pocket and holds it in front of him, still gripping you with his left hand. “No, it’ll matter when I tell him who I carved up in his little getaway.”

Before the other demon can reply, Dean lets go of your hand and springs forward, the First Blade ready. Dean slices at the demon, making it scream, before plunging the ugly blade into its stomach. There’s a spark of orange light from within your former nutritionist and then Dean yanks the blade out and kicks the corpse over.

“Think you can run?” Dean asks and then starts sprinting down the hallway, blade still out. He heads towards the front door.

Holding the bag of alchemy stuffs close, you chase after Dean the best you can. It’s not far to the front door and Dean pauses before it to kick the oak doors open, splintering the wood. Dean waits for you, watching your back until you catch up. The second you reach Dean, he grabs your right hand again, pulling you along in a half jog.

It takes a few minutes of you stumbling in Dean’s wake before you reach the Impala. Dean lets go of your hand, opens the back door and half pushes you inside. You can already see your alchemy ingredients chest under the front seat.

Picking up the chest with ease, you stroke it open and stuff your new acquisitions inside while Dean starts the ignition and begins driving away. The gates to the ranch are already open and you see a corpse lying beside the road. It had recently held a demon inside.

Reaching the highway, you study Dean’s reflection in the rearview mirror. There’s nothing usable in your chest anymore, your old knockout powders would have grown too stale to still be effective on a demon. Dean looks back at you in the mirror and you try to figure out what he’s thinking. What he’s deciding.

“Are you going to let me go?”

Silence.

“Dean, please.”

“I’ll think about it.”


	3. Cracked

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam finally gets a lead on Dean and you. Meanwhile, Dean's made it quite clear that you're not going anywhere.

Coffee and doughnuts scent the air and make Sam’s stomach churn. He’d hardly eaten since leaving the Bunker some eleven hours earlier. There’d been a PowerBar sometime in Iowa and two bottles of water, but he’d not bothered eating anything more substantial before changing into his Fed clothes. The the ache in Sam’s heart and the pain in his shoulder have seen him eat less and less since you disappeared and Dean died.

The Portage County sheriff’s office was busy, but nothing the officers are investigating is as weird as the death of Drew Neely. Nor as brutal. The moment Sam sees Dean--”porn guy”--in the security footage he knows that’s his brother’s shell is walking around.

Sam’s left alone, he hits play and pauses the video. Neely’s dead, at Dean’s feet, and there, just there, for a frame, Dean’s eyes are an ominous black. _Neely’s demon is in Dean now_ , Sam decides, but there’s a pinch in his gut that’s trying to tell him otherwise. Sam ignores it and leaves the sheriff’s office, intending to go to the Gas-n-Sip where the attack happened.

Sitting in his car, Sam puts his left hand through his hair and tries to stop the image of Dean’s black eyes becoming a waking nightmare. It’s hard. The pinch in his guts intensifies and Sam rests his forehead against the steering wheel, closing his eyes. If Sam could get hold of Crowley, he’d be able to answer so many questions, but all attempts to talk to the King of Hell had so far failed.

Dean’s face is replaced by the drunken self-pitying figure of Lester and Sam sucks in a sudden breath, blinking his eyes open to stare down the steering column. Sam gazes back at his own reflection in the dashboard dials. Breathing coming under control, Sam sits back up in his seat and looks in the rearview mirror. You stare back at him.

Twisting in his seat, Sam turns round, but no one’s behind him. He’s alone. Still.

***

It’s a busy day in the bar. A woman, who smells familiar, keeps throwing Dean looks, one of the staff, but Dean’s responses cycle between interested and stay away.

“May I use the restroom?” You ask Dean quietly.

The demon puts his whiskey glass down. “Sure thing. Don’t take too long, or I will come looking.” Dean turns towards you and leans forward, expectantly, whiskey breath mixing with sulfur and carrion.

Placing your lips on Dean’s you kiss him gently and he cups a hand to the back of your neck, pressing you to him harder. A warm tongue breaches your lips and Dean eases your mouth open, greedily taking from you. Finally, he lets you pull away and you slide off your stool.

The restroom is empty when you slip inside. Walking over to the sinks you turn the faucet on and splash your face with cool water. Dean was treating you like a prize and showing you off each chance he got.

You’re here, because Dean wants to show you off to Crowley. You’re here… because Dean threatened to drive out to Oregon and kill your best friend, Karen, if you so much as strayed a mile away from him.

The threat had been made in the car ride from the ranch. There’d been no pre-amble. No humour. Dean had just flat out said it:

“Y/N, if you run away from me, I will go to Karen and I will play with her and then I will gut her like a pig.” His eyes had been black.

Looking in the mirror above the sinks, you see no one but you. You blink. Sam’s there behind you. Heart lifting, you turn round and you see that you’re still alone. Still stuck with no easy way to deal with Dean. It almost made you wish the Bunker had a homeline that you could call and tell Sam where you both were. You’d read about the cure--back in the Bunker’s library, a million years ago--you knew it would be possible to get Dean back, if you could get Dean to Sam.

A few minutes later, you’re out in the bar and sitting beside Dean on his right. There’s a fresh bottle of beer waiting for you and Dean is looking at you all kinds of hungry.

“Darlings, I figured you’d both be halfway to Tijuana by now.” Crowley sits down beside you on your right. A cocktail is slid in front of him.

“Don’t need sunshine when I’ve got Y/N right with me.” Dean curls his right arm around your waist, possessively. “She’s not going anywhere.”

“Here I was, thinking Anne-Marie was the love of your life, Dean.”

“Oh, now you remember her name.” Dean shakes his head, fingers splaying out over your stomach as he tugs you closer to his side. A blonde woman narrows her eyes at the two of you from further down the bar. _Anne-Marie no doubt_ , you think, taking in her scent a moment and realizing she is the woman you had smelled on Dean previously.

“You can’t expect me to keep track of every single trollop you hook up with.” Crowley’s almost hissing into his cocktail at this point. You ignore Crowley’s insult, instead focusing on the nervous edge to Crowley. You can smell it. For all his blustering about being the King of Hell, it’s obvious now that Dean makes him anxious.

A commotion starts past Dean. Some guy’s just walked up to Anne-Marie and started harassing her.

“One sec, sweetheart.” Dean jumps off his stool and heads towards the quarrel.

There’s a tutting sound from Crowley and you turn to him. “I don’t think you know what game you’re playing, Y/N, but-”

“But what, Crowley? But what? You had a fucking collar on me!” You half snarl, bottle of beer shaking in your hand. _And you weren’t going to kill Karen_ , you think bitterly to yourself.

“This is only going to end in tears.” Crowley sips at his cocktail, eyes innocently staring back at you.

The commotion moves outside.

***

A shrimp of a store clerk nervously stares at Sam, as he recounts “porn guy’s” fight highlight reel from the showdown in the Gas-n-Sip. Mickey isn’t giving up anything Sam couldn’t already tell from the video he’d seen at the sheriff’s office.

“So some guy comes in, kills another guy in your store on your watch, and you just--you what? Just keep on keepin' on?” Sam asks, disbelief creeping into his voice.

The store clerk rolls his eyes at Sam. “You mean when porn guy was stabbing the other guy to death ten feet in front of me, and I was having a total code-brown moment in my favorite freakin' pants because I thought I was next, did I conduct a field interview?... No.”

Sam’s about to give up, when Mickey hands him Neely’s cell. Looking at it with interest, Sam says thanks and heads out of the Gas-n-Sip and back to his car. There’s still some power left. Sam turns it on and trawls through the call log and then the text messages. The most recent one directs Neely to the Gas-n-Sip, and Dean. _‘Long live Abaddon’... someone sent an Abaddon supporter against Dean?_

The earlier pinch in Sam’s gut flares again. Curiosity sends him into the back of the car for some necessary pieces of kit and then dialling the number the text message came from. The number rings and then-

“You’re dead,” says Crowley’s voice over the line.

Finally, Sam has the lead he has been chasing for months. He’s close. The trace begins to run. Now it’s all about keeping Crowley on the line for long enough. Keep the words flowing, keep-

“... Your brother is very much alive, courtesy of the mark. And the only demonized soul inside of Dean is his and his alone.”

Sam’s heart stutters in his chest and the pinch in his gut flares. He asks about the Abaddon supporters--burying his feelings--keeping Crowley on the line so the trace can succeed, even while it pains him to hear the demon describe his relationship with Dean.

“And of course Y/N is a fine accompaniment to our team of-”

“Y/N is with you?!” Sam hardly manages to keep his voice neutral now.

There’s a low chuckle from Crowley. “Well, in a manner of speaking. Dean’s been making our business arrangement quite strained of late. But don’t you worry Moose, I nursed her back to health after Purgatory. She’s all tickety-boo.”

Your lack of getting in touch made complete sense now. Sam could imagine you under lockdown, used for whatever purpose Crowley intended. B _ut what has Dean been doing then?_

“I am going to find you, I am going to save my brother and Y/N, and then I'm going to kill you dead.”

Crowley quips at that and hangs up. Sam looks down at the tracer, determination flaring like it hasn’t in months. It’s time to head to North Dakota.

***

During one of Dean’s more light hearted moods, you’d tried explaining to him that while all demons smelled of sulfur, they still smelled different from each other. Your sense of smell had been permanently heightened after an “accident” back in Purgatory. So, when you catch a whiff of the unfamiliar demon standing behind you at the bar--Dean’s off hustling some poor saps at pool--you tense.

The demon puts his left hand on your right shoulder and grips you tight. You can’t start anything here inside the bar. You look up to Dean and he sees the figure looming behind you. He finishes eight-balling the prat he’d been playing, grabs his cash and follows you and the other demon out a back door and into an alley behind the bar.

A cruel laugh climbs out of Dean the moment the demon twists you round in front of him to be a shield between him and Dean for a moment. You’re not sure how Dean is going to play this, there’s a wicked gleam in his eyes.

“You Abaddon groupies have got no style, you know that? Taking off with a guy’s girl, to try and what? Scare him into… what exactly? I saw you sulking around earlier. Figure’d casing me out would help give you the advantage, huh. But why can’t you just accept your queen is dead?”

An unfamiliar hand closes around your right wrist and twists your arm back painfully behind you. Pain shoots through your arm and you yell out.

“Maybe we just can't accept that a douche like you was the one who killed her.”

Tears brim in your eyes.

“At least I’m not the one hiding behind some girl, again,” Dean shoots back, right hand reaching behind him and pulling the First Blade out.

Touching the Blade like that, holding it firmly in his hand--you watch as Dean gives into the cruel construct. Bloodlust blooms in his eyes and the the stench of carrion is almost overpowering now. You’d rather break your arm than be run through with that thing again.

Tearing your arm out of the demon’s grip bones snap and push through your skin, blood pouring. The demon hisses as your blood comes into contact with his skin. It’s not deadly like it once was, but it sizzles and burns on contact.

You have a split second to slide out of the way, Dean’s eager feet carrying him towards the unnamed demon. Dodging out of reach, you twist and watch Dean plunge the blade into the demon, caught off guard by the pain you had inflicted. There’s an orange flash of light and the demon is defeated.

Sliding to the floor, you look away from Dean and the demon’s corpse, Dean’s fist and the blade smashing down into its remains repeatedly now he’s kneeling over it. There’s a crunch when its ribs finally crack--it comes at the same moment you set your wrist bones back in place to allow the wound to heal more easily.

“Dean, he’s dead,” you say.

More bones crack and give way. Your wrist finishes healing.

“DEAN, HE’S DEAD!” You shout, looking to the bloody ruin Dean has covered himself in. “YOU CAN STOP, NOW!”

The blade falls out of his right hand and there’s a startled look in his eyes and the briefest flash of humanity there--then it’s gone. Dean looks to you and smiles, flecks of blood covering his face.

“We make a good team.” Dean stands up and is beside you in a few short strides. He holds out a hand to you and you take it, allowing him to pull you up.

Dean’s face is hard to read, but then he pulls you close and you can feel the desire behind his muscles. _But you’re not my Dean_. A large, bloody hand comes up and gently grips your chin, tilting your face up towards a mouth both familiar and now far too unfamiliar.

You pray for Sam to find both of you soon. Dean’s lips caress yours, hardly managing to hold back the ravages you can feel building behind them. The kiss ends and Dean slowly, reluctantly, pulls away.

“Let’s go get cleaned up,” Dean says and he almost seems like himself, but the stench of sulfur and the blood covering him say otherwise.


	4. Hunting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam gets a bit tied up trying to track down Dean. Meanwhile Dean shows you a night you're never going to forget.

“Well, that's a kill switch. This here is the remote.” The last thing Sam remembers before being knocked out cold runs through his mind again. The punch he couldn’t stop. Self-loathing and anger thrums through him. Tied to a chair in a barn, he still can’t believe how he let this son of a bitch knock him out and truss him up. Sam’s shoulder feels like it’s on fire and this guy is making no sense, other than he has some beef with Dean. The man’s not a hunter and clearly doesn’t understand what hornet’s nest he’s gone and kicked.

The man keeps talking about Dean and how he knows who Sam is, but he doesn’t know Dean. Doesn’t _know_ what Dean has become. Pulling out Sam’s cell, the man dials what can only be Dean’s number.

***

The dark road stretches on ahead of you, the Impala travelling at a speedy pace. You’ve no idea where you’re driving to--Dean hadn’t told you when’d you left the motel. There’d been a conversation between Dean and Crowley, you knew that much, but Dean had told you to hang back in your room. The moment he’d returned, Dean had been all like “we’re leaving” and you had no choice but to follow suit, bags packed (not that you had much) and had gone.

You’d been trying to keep some physical distance between you, but Dean had kept insisting that you sit almost on top of him, side plastered to his. Of course you’re not going to say no. He’d not had to mention Karen since the night you left the ranch, but that threat is always there, hanging over you like the death sentence it is. _Remember kids, if you want to threaten someone who’s immortal, you go after those closest and dearest to them_ , you think bitterly, Dean’s right hand sliding down and up your left thigh again.

There’s a buzzing sound and you look at Dean, it’s his cell but you’re not allowed to touch it… you’d already learned that the hard way. Dean pulls his cell out and you see the caller ID, heart stopping in your chest. It’s Sam. Sam is calling Dean.

“I left you an open tab at the bar. Knock yourself out,” Dean answers.

Then he’s elbowing you out the way, the conversation turning, because it’s not Sam on the phone. It’s someone Dean doesn’t know and your stomach feels icy, brain working overtime to think what could have happened to Sam for some stranger to be using his cell. You can’t hear the other side of the conversation, but you can register Dean’s cruel grimace, his clenching jaw and tensing of his hand on the wheel.

“And how do I know he's still alive?”

Staring back at Dean with wild eyes, you let out a small cry that’s drowned out by Sam’s own shout over the line. For a crazy moment you forget that this Dean isn’t going to give a fuck about Sam. Dean ignores you and your attempts to claw the phone away from him, his bitter words tainting the air, threatening the caller and saying Sam brought this on himself. Dean hangs up and suddenly pulls over, killing the engine.

The moment the car’s stopped moving, you slide across the leather heading for the passenger door, but Dean’s too fast. His hands reach out and grab you, pulling you by your t-shirt and yanking you towards him. Nails colliding with Dean’s face, you scratch at him, unable to pull your hand back enough to land a punch, not that resisting Dean is doing any good.

Dean’s eyes flick to black. “Really, Y/N. We’re gonna root for Team Sam? What about Team Dean, huh?” His hands curl around your throat, not strangling you yet, but the promise is there. Calloused thumbs rubbing over your soft skin, making small circles.

“When did our lives become a parody of Twilight?” You snark back.

Hands still on your throat, Dean pushes himself against you. He’s hard, cock pressing against your thigh, jeans sheathing it for now. The parody of a relationship that’s been stringing out between the two of you since the ranch weighs on you along with Dean. You know you’re being used, know that to say no would be dangerous, but your body still responds to him. Under the Mark and sulfur there’s still Dean--easing his way into your senses, filling your head, making you ache.

“You did go and jump into Purgatory… Kinda like jumping off a cliff,” Dean says, voice huskier and warmer, the anger of his actions giving way to something else. His eyes flick back to green. It would be just like Dean to fuck you senseless in order to make you forget about Sam.

“The fact that you know that is something that happens in the series is ruining my image of ya,” you humor Dean.

“Is that so?” Dean’s left hand comes away from your throat and slides down your chest, cupping your breast through your top, then sliding down your stomach until it reaches the waistband of your combats. “What about now?”

“Getting better,” you reply, playing along, feeling wet. Dean opens your combats and his hand works its way into your underwear, your panties lacy and black, picked out by him. Middle finger going straight into your hole, thumb to your clit, you writhe under Dean.

“And now?” Dean circles his finger around your hole, each rotation opening you up further. He’s asking if you’re thinking less of Sam. Questioning who you’re loyal to. Each stroke is calling for an answer.

“Your image… is… restored,” you gasp, hips starting to rock against Dean’s hand. _Just play along, just play along_. You don’t know if Dean can tell if you’re lying, you’ve always been good at hiding things from Sam and Dean. After all, it had been weeks before they realized how fucked up you were after you’d gone to live with them. Now you aren’t hiding a drug addiction though, you’re hiding your feelings.

A wicked smile curls along Dean’s lips and then he kisses you forcefully. Opening your mouth to him, you let him take what he wants, his hand driving you crazy, making you desperate for more. Finally his right hand leaves your neck and you relax until Dean’s fingers leaving your folds makes you whimper.

“Hush, gonna make you feel so good, sweetheart.” Dean pulls his jeans and boxers partly down and lets his heavy cock free. Going to you, he pulls your boots off and then your combats and panties, heedless of the fact that the two of you are parked up alongside a road.

Kneeling before you, Dean lifts your legs up and puts your feet on his chest. He gets into position and slides inside your wetness. Hips starting to work you, the angle lets him hit your g-spot and you can’t help but feel good. Dean pulls almost all the way out and suddenly slams into you, the pace now desperate and needy. There’s a pride in what Dean is doing with you, you can sense that. You can imagine most other demons fucking with only their own pleasure as the end goal, but Dean likes to believe that he is a master of carnal desire, now that he’s free of all the pesky things being a human would press on him. His stamina’s impossible now and he’s made you aware of this many times.

“You’re gonna come for me, Y/N.” Dean reaches his right hand down between you, slicks it with your own juices and starts rubbing your clit hard and fast. The friction is maddening, sending sparks up your spine and making your stomach clench. Feeling blood rushing to your face and your folds, it’s clear you won’t last long for Dean.

Little breathy gasps escape you and through half-lidded eyes you can see Dean observing the effect he’s having. Pushing in and pulling out, his fingers adding to the symphony of pleasure he’s trying to orchestrate. Your clit throbs and your core aches, each thrust that grazes your spot and each stroke of your clit pushing you towards orgasm.

Headlights ghost past, but the car keeps driving by and Dean doesn’t let up. Flesh slapping against yours, Dean’s left hand caresses your right thigh, fingers stroking and massaging you. Dean traces the tattoo there, but doesn’t remark. Seat leather burns your butt cheeks a moment and then the wound heals. The head of Dean’s cock slams into your spot again and again, dragging you to the edge.

“Come for me, baby girl.”

A shout escapes you, then a shuddering breath--you clench around Dean, your orgasm finally hitting and stomach unclenching. Dean takes his hand away from your sensitive nub, pushing your legs against your chest, slamming into you. A few deep thrusts and Dean snarls, letting himself go and coming inside of you.

Blissed out green eyes stare down at you. He’s almost the Dean you shared a night with back in that hotel in Dallas. Letting you up, Dean passes you your clothes and starts sorting himself out. The two of you dress in silence.

“Where are we going?” You ask, sitting close to Dean, clothes on.

Dean looks over his shoulder and then back to you. “Doesn’t matter.”

“What did you and Crowley talk about?”

Dean turns the key and the Impala’s engine roars to life. “Doesn’t matter.” You’d ask about Sam, but you’d just end up repeating yourselves.

***

Nothing in his bag had managed to convince this Cole that Sam worked in hunting monsters and demons. Sam was able to believe that Dean may have once killed a creature that looked like Cole’s father, but he found it hard to believe that Cole’s father had been alive or human when that had happened.

The pain Sam feels now--his shoulder burning from Cole’s persuasion techniques--is nothing like the stabbing pain in his heart from knowing that Cole had spoken to Dean before him. Sam’s on the road now, heading to Crowley’s last known location, Castiel hopefully heading that way too. Never had Sam been so thankful for a phone call--the one that had distracted Cole and given him his chance.

Still, one of Cole’s questions had surprised Sam. Cole had asked: “Who’s the woman with Dean?”

***

It’s night. Dark enough that the neighbours can’t look onto the property. Dean’s got you standing between some trees, watching him. Crowley had struck a deal and Dean had taken you along for the ride. That’s all you knew, having taken to playing pool. The bar meeting had seemed tense, but you’d kept out of it. Looking for a means out while you played.

Stealing a cellphone from your opponent had almost worked, until Dean’s keen eyes had spotted it on the way out. He’d crushed your wrist and smashed the cell on the ground. All without a word. There’d been no further recriminations: he wasn’t going to leave you in some random motel room while he was miles away, instead you were playing witness to whatever deed he was about to carry out. The Impala was parked down on some sideroad.

A car pulls up on the the drive outside the house. Dean is hovering by the front door.

“Dean!” You hiss and Dean turns to see the car. He motions for you to stay in the trees. The vehicle parks up and you watch Dean approach it, steps fast and tense. There’s a man sat inside, he has a mustache and wears glasses.

Exhibiting no hesitation, Dean gets into the car and from here matters escalate quickly--their conversation heated from the start though you can’t hear it. Dean pulls out the First Blade after punching the man and stabs him in the chest. You stifle a scream.

The rest of the night is a blur of blood and booze. The morning is slept off in the back of the Impala and you don’t remember the car ride to the bar.

***

The bar is just the kind of dive Sam could imagine Dean hanging out in with no qualms. Sam’s skin is crawling the moment he sets foot inside and sees Dean sat at a piano with you stood beside him. Crowley hadn’t lied, but he’d forgotten to mention the part about you being with Dean. In the few seconds he has to surprise the two of you, Sam tries to figure out why you would not try to get away from his brother. Betrayal snakes through his stomach, but he tries to reserve doubt for your circumstances.

Words die on Sam’s tongue at the sight of you tensing beside Dean.

“Hiya, Sam.” Dean stands up from the piano and grabs you by the wrist, twisting you around. Sam grimaces at the harrowed look in your eyes, one that suggests more than a long night. “C’mon, Y/N, say hello to Sam.”

***

Heart thundering in your chest, you want to stride across the room and wrap yourself around Sam, kiss him better. You knew he was here the moment you smelled him outside the bar.

Dean’s grip on you remains strong. Things aren’t quite in your favour enough to just break your wrist and run to Sam. You need to see his hand first, so to speak.

“Hey, Harv, why don't you go grab a smoke?” Dean says to the bartender and Harv doesn’t waste anytime getting out. The grip on your wrist tightens. “Say hello.”

“Hello, Sam,” you try to keep your voice _neutra_ , not wanting to anger Dean and get yourself killed. Sam’s cheeks dimple and you can tell he’s hurt by the lack of emotion in your voice. If only you could explain there and then the leverage Dean has.

Sam ignores you. “You should know: Crowley sold you out, Dean.” You feel like you’ve been struck.

“Sounds like him.”

Your Sam is standing right in front of you and he thinks you want to be there with Dean, like this. That is what the look of doubt and horror in his eyes is saying as the brothers’ words roll off of each other.

The longer the conversation draws out, the tighter Dean’s grip becomes and you’re pretty sure he’s going to break your wrist in a moment. There’s a pause. Sam reaches into the back pocket of his jeans and demon cuffs appear in his one good hand. You can almost feel Dean’s eyeroll, but you're hopeful for the idea that Sam can cure Dean. Make Dean, Dean again.

“You really think those are gonna work?” Dean lets go of you, getting ready to fight.

“There's one way to find out.” Sam starts to square up.

Looking between the two brothers, you’re pretty sure you could help pin Dean down, at least for a moment. Jump on his back, something like that.

Glass smashes and you hear the heavy thud of a tear gas cannister entering the bar. White smoke shushes out and obscures the room. Dean moves away from you, but he doesn’t grab you. You hear Sam coughing. The smoke stings your nostrils and eyes, but it doesn’t affect you that badly, your tolerances from your own alchemical concoctions protecting you. Stumbling through the smoke, you find Sam and lead him out towards where you think the back door is, holding on to his good arm. You don’t care what Sam thinks of you, but you are determined to get him to safety.

Pushing through the door and the smoke, air greeting you, something heavy and hard lands on the back of your head and you black out. The world becoming silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. Don't worry, Sam and reader will be coming soon, but if there's anything else you want to see then let me know :)


	5. Dance with a demon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean decides to show what happens when you bat for Team Sam.

“Damnit, wake-up! WAKE-UP! PLEASE BE OKAY, Y/N!” Sam’s whispering, panicking voice filters down to you through the blackness of your unconsciousness. His voice curls around you like ropes, pulling you back from the abyss.

Eyes fluttering open, you look blearily up into Sam’s hazel ones. “I’m awake, geez.” You aren’t okay, but that’s gonna take some time. The back of your head hurts, pain quickly fading. Your head is cradled in Sam’s lap.

“How many fingers?” Sam holds up three.

“Three, damnit. I’m fine!” Further down the alley behind the bar, you hear the distant sound a gun clip clattering to the asphalt.

“You know… And I'm just spitballing here, but, uh, maybe… you are not as good as you think you are.” Dean’s talking to someone you can’t see, further down the alley.

Sitting up, you fully take in Sam: the lines under his eyes; the tiny grimaces from the pain in his shoulder; how much thinner he’s gotten and the desperation that drives his every single movement. The Sam you’d left behind feels like a distant memory--a man that held you an entire lifetime ago.

You wrap an arm around Sam’s good left shoulder and pull him close, breathing him in. Sam’s still all books, spinach and kale. Still distinctly male and wonderful. Sam is still himself, despite the distance you’ve travelled. For a moment, you wonder if Sam will want you back--he’d seemed upset by you keeping your distance in the bar--but his left arm is snaking around your waist and holding you close. Lips kiss your cheeks and then your mouth. Gentle and sweet. Better than than you remember.

There’s a thud and Dean’s raised voice draws you back to the now.

Torn, you pull away from Sam and stand up. Sam follows. The two of you look down to where you can now see Dean fighting some guy.

“We need to stop Dean.” The man Dean’s fighting stumbles backwards, Dean easily reversing the man’s moves and using them against him.

Sam’s still beside you and you look to him. His expression is one of hesitation and annoyance. “Cole, you damn fool,” mutters Sam, cheeks dimpling.

“You know him?”

“That’s the idiot who tied me up and tortured me for information about Dean.”

Muscles tensing, you can’t help the anger that curls up inside of you. Sure, Cole should probably be saved before Dean has the chance to pull out the First Blade and skewer him on it.

You sigh. “We should help.”

“Right.” There’s the clink of metal and Sam pulls out the demon cuffs and a flask of holy water. Sam hesitates and then begins to walk slowly forward. You follow.

Dean’s thrown Cole down to the ground and is looking down at him. You can’t quite catch what Dean is saying to the man, though you’re sure you just caught a line from the _Princess Bride_. Dean makes no move to show that he knows the two of you are slowly approaching his position. Ahead, there’s a flurry of movement and you catch the cruel gleam of a blade. Dean backs off and Cole returns to his feet. Sam holds you both back, the fight intensifying again. Then Dean’s shoving Cole against a car.

You blink and the First Blade is in Dean’s hand, being held to Cole’s throat. Last night flashes through your head. The man in the car. The blade sinking deep into his chest. Sam starts powering forward again. _I can’t let Dean kill another person_ , you decide, rushing ahead of Sam.

All thought empties out of your head. You grab Dean’s right hand and yank it as hard as you can. Sam’s shouting in the distance. Dean pivots with you yanking his arm and Cole slides down to the ground, shaking.

“Hey, Y/N, I thought we’d already had this talk about playing for Team Sam,” Dean says, black eyes flicking between you and Sam. The First Blade is pointed straight at your chest.

“I don’t think what we had really counted for a conversation,” you reply, voice calmer than you feel. Cole scrambles back up the car and leans against it. You can hear Sam shifting behind you.

“I dunno. I pushed and you responded. And boy, did you respond.” Dean gives you a lecherous smile, his words clearly meant to hurt Sam and wind you up.

You ignore Dean’s words. “It’s over, Dean.”

“You’re right, it is.” Dean plunges the First Blade into your chest and you crumple to the floor. Consciousness quickly fading away, you dimly hear and feel Sam, catching a glimpse of panicked hazel eyes.

Blood flooding your lungs and throat, you realize that Sam doesn’t know that the First Blade can’t kill you. You try to tell him to ignore you and stop Dean, but all that comes out of your mouth is gurgles and blood. Fuck’s sake, Sam. Blackness grips you and pulls you back down into the abyss.

***

Sam’s knees are hurting; his throat and eyes are sore from crying; his shoulder is screaming at him. Dean’s gone. Cole’s fled. Failure churns in Sam’s guts and he can’t believe that he’s lost Dean again and finally you. Nothing can survive the First Blade: Sam feels so sure of this fact. _It’s killed Knights of Hell, how could you possibly stand a chance?_

Leaning down for the dozenth time, Sam kisses your cooling forehead. He’d only just got you back. Knowing you were adventuring in Purgatory had made him feel closer to you in comparison to cradling your lifeless body like he is now. Gaze shifting to the blood drying on your lips and on your clothes, Sam grimaces. He knows he needs to take you from here before somebody sees you, but he just can’t bring himself to move.

Lax muscles suddenly tense on top of Sam’s own and he feels your body shake and convulse.

“GUGGHHFF!” You cough. Sam shifts to help you sit up. Surprise and relief wash through him. He can’t help pulling you against his chest with his one good arm and holding you there.

“You’re… alive,” Sam says.

“Don’t… sound,” you cough again, “... so… surprised.”

The hysterical chuckle that works its way out of Sam in response is mixed with relief and disbelief. “I thought… the Blade.”

You clear your throat and Sam rubs your back. “Gonna take more than some stupid bit of goat bone to kill me. Not that this is the first time Dean went and gave it to me either.”

_That isn’t the first time?_ Sam’s breath catches in his chest a little. Anger begins to start chipping away at the relief he’d felt at your resurrection. The idea that Dean had been treating you as some kind of plaything to do with as he pleased makes Sam reconsider curing his brother. _But that’s just the demon… Dean would never do that._

Sam takes a steadying breath. _We need to get moving_. “Think you can stand?”

“Yeah.”

Helping each other up, Sam looks around and knows they’re not going to find anything behind the bar that tells the two of you where Dean has gone. Sam is back at square one and he really doesn’t want to call Crowley again.

“You’re wondering where Dean is, right?”

“I-”

“I’m with Team Sam at the moment. That means Dean’s gone to pay a visit to an old friend.”

“Who?”

“Oh, just Karen is all.”

An icy feeling settles in Sam’s stomach and he nods. Body on autopilot, he motions you towards the back door and the two of you walk through and leave the bar. Out on the street, Sam steers you towards the red pick-up he’d stolen. Dean has a forty minute head start and Karen is more than eighteen hours away.

_Dean can do a lot with forty minutes._

***

Sunshine filters down through a gap in Karen’s blinds. It’s early morning and she’s got the day off. Birds are singing from some trees outside and she’s cocooned in that blissful state of knowing she doesn’t have to be anywhere for anyone. The duvet is a fort of comfort and warmth. Peeking an eye open and looking out over her covers, Karen contemplates whether she wants more sleep or if she wants to get up and head down to her favourite diner for breakfast.

Karen’s breath catches in her chest, eyes falling on a deep red shirt beside her dresser. Looking up, she sees Dean looking down at her. She tries not to scream, even though it’s been months since she last saw or heard from Dean Winchester.

“Dean?”

The older Winchester steps forward, the sun highlighting the smile on his face. “Sorry for the dramatics, but something’s come up… I’d have called ahead, but you changed your number.”

Rubbing sleep out of her eyes, Karen yawns and nods. “Y-yeah… s-stupid cell company.” Karen sits up in her bed.

“You wanna get some breakfast?”

“Uh, sure? But you didn’t just come here for breakfast, right?”

“Right.”

***

Sixteen fraught hours, driving cross country. Night your companion for the moment--dawn not far away. It’s not how you expected your reunion with Sam to go: driving to save your friend; wearing one of Sam’s plaid shirts and smelling of him. All of your things, alchemy chest included, are still in the Impala. Still with Dean. Attempts to call Karen had all failed, her old number no longer working.

Looking over at Sam, you note his knuckles are turning white from how hard he’s gripping the steering wheel. You’d been taking it in turns to drive, and you’re starting to think maybe you should drive the rest of the way to your hometown: Bend, Oregon. It was still a few more hours away.

“Sam, I can drive the rest of the-”

“No, I got this.”

Sam had already spilled what had happened with Dean after you’d left for Purgatory. Listening to Sam talk of how Metatron had killed Dean. How Dean had… come back. Still, you’d remained quiet on your time in Purgatory and what things had been like since you’d returned. Every so often Sam glances over at you, but he doesn’t ask.

You’re not sure you can talk about it while you focus on not thinking about what Dean might do to Karen. Talking about Purgatory is not something that’s going to make you feel warm and fuzzy inside. Out of the corner of your eye, you catch Sam looking at you again. He’s curious, that much is obvious.

Who knew when you’d get the chance to talk again.

“I killed Simon,” you offer, getting the conversation going.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N,” and Sam sounds it.

“It’s fine. I knew going in that there was a chance he wouldn’t want the cure.”

“How… how come it took you so long to come back?”

“Got in with a rough crowd.”

“A rough crowd?”

You take a deep breath. “I did some hunting at first, after finding and killing Simon. Got some ingredients and stuff… then the leviathans found out about me. They didn’t like not being able to eat me. It was so stupid, they kept trying to take chunks out of me and the moment they got a drop of my blood they melted. Faster than those vamps that one time, remember?”

“How could I forget.”

“The leviathans were more of a nuisance than a menace. Though I had to retrieve an arm from one once.”

Sam blanches.

“Yeah, it wasn’t pretty. Could have done with a hot bath after that fight. Anyway, a bunch of werewolves and dragons decided I could be useful. Some of the werewolves wanted to learn about the cure and the dragons, like any dragons, wanted gold. The two groups helped keep me hidden.”

Sam clears his throat. “I feel like there’s a ‘but’ coming up.”

You laugh and nod. “But it was pretty stressful living with both groups. They started to fight over me and the werewolves didn’t stand a chance. One morning, I woke up and found that half the pack that had been with us… they’d been torched to death and the rest had fled. The smell had been… I knew then that I needed to leave. So I gathered up what little I had and gave the dragons the slip, using that mix that makes their fires burn cool.

“I made for the portal and came home.” You finish. Not mentioning the addictions you’d cultivated there or the tattoo on your thigh. The promises you had made.

“And when you couldn’t reach me or Dean-”

“I called Crowley.”

Sam nods to that and sighs. You can hear him thinking about what could have been had you been able to reach him over a month ago. The road stretches on ahead and it doesn’t feel like you’re any closer to Karen. Doesn’t feel like you’ve made it back at all.

“I’m… I’m glad you’re back. It might not seem like it, Y/N, but having you beside me again is… I’ve been pretty lonely.” Sam huffs out a breath.

“What about Cas?” You ask, concern in your voice.

“Cas hasn’t been doing so well. The grace he stole is burning out and though he’s been trying to help, there’s not been much he could do.”

Nodding solemnly, you pull a bottle of water out of a grocery bag on the seat beside you and open it. Drinking half of the bottle down, you try not to think too heavily about the idea of Sam being all alone while you stayed in Purgatory. All alone since you came back.

“I’m sorry, Sam. You shouldn’t have had to face any of this by yourself.”

Sam looks to you and the smile that comes to his face his heartbreaking. “Y/N, you thought you were doing the right thing… You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“But you’ve been... through all of this.”

“It’s no less than what I deserved.” There’s a note of guilt in Sam’s voice.

“Sam?”

Puppy dog eyes meet yours and then turn back to the road. “Believe me, you working with monsters… working with Crowley? That’s nothing in comparison to the the things I’ve done since Dean died.”

“What did you do?”

Sam’s cheeks dimple nervously and he keeps looking at the road. “I got desperate, trying to find Dean. Find out what had happened to him after his body disappeared and he’d left that note… I knew Crowley had to be involved somehow.”

“And?”

“No one was talking to me. Complete no show whenever I called or summoned. So I took the only action that I could… I convinced this guy called Lester to summon a crossroads demon and was too slow to stop him from selling his soul for a deal.”

Reaching out across the cabin of the pick-up, you place your left hand gently on Sam’s right. “Not my place to judge… I’ve done some pretty fucked up shit over the past year.”

Sam nods and the tension in his body seems to dial back a few notches. “It’s not far now.”

***

Karen gets a quizzical look from the young waitress running tables this early in the morning. A few other regulars are dotted about the diner--sipping coffee, eating eggs, slicing up pancakes--nothing out of the ordinary is going on.

Smiling at the waitress, Karen picks out a booth and slides in, facing the front door. Dean slides in beside Karen and she’s more than a little surprised at being boxed in like this. A companionable arm is wrapped around Karen’s shoulders and she catches a glimpse of the strange mark on Dean’s right arm that he had the last time they met.

“Coffee?” The waitress is stands beside their table, pot in hand. She puts two menus down in front of them.

“Please,” Karen replies.

“Fill ‘er up,” Dean answers and Karen notices for the first time how he seems different. Huskier.

The waitress leans over and fills the waiting mug beside Karen and then fills Dean’s. Karen catches Dean admiring the view until the waitress finishes.

“I’ll be back over in a bit to take your orders.” The waitress wanders off.

Karen backhands Dean’s chest and he lets out a comical ‘oof’. “You were totally checking out our waitress.”

“It’s a free country.” Dean smirks. Karen can tell there’s something off about him, but she’s not sure what.

Shaking her head, Karen adds some creamer and sugar to her coffee. Slowly stirring it, she looks back to Dean and catches him looking at her with more interest than is necessary. Dean’s right arm is still over her shoulders. _There must be a good reason…_

“So, what’s come up? You… you heard something about Y/N?” Karen can’t hide the hope in her voice.

A smile breaks out on Dean’s face. “Yep, Sam thinks he might have found a way of pulling her back.”

“Seriously? Seriously?!” Karen grins at Dean. The grin turns to shock the moment Dean leans in and suddenly kisses her on the lips. Karen pushes Dean’s face away, unable to shift his arm.

“Woah, time out!” Karen hisses so only Dean can hear. “That is not okay!”

“Sorry, you just looked-”

“I don’t swing your way. I don’t swing your entire gender’s way. You know this. And what about Y/N?”

“Of course. Sorry… just got caught up in the moment.” Dean picks up his coffee and sips it, but his arm stays around Karen.

Frowning, Karen sips her own coffee and then puts it down. “It’s... fine. I’m sure you and Sam must have been going mad with worry all this time. I know I’ve cried enough for all three of us.” Dean’s arm is a constant pressure and the longer it remains across Karen’s shoulders--the more she begins to feel trapped.

“You should have called me. We could have spoken.”

“Yeah, but I’ve been trying to live a normal life and Dean… you guys make that difficult.”

***

Hunter instincts kick in the moment Sam crosses the threshold of Karen’s house. He doesn’t need your supernaturally good sense of smell to pick up on the stench of sulfur that awaits in the front hallway of Karen’s home. You’d knocked and called, but there had been no reply and so Sam had picked the lock on the front door.

“Karen?!” Your voice echoes down from upstairs. Sam strolls from room to room downstairs, but there’s no sign of your best friend.

The two of you meet in the hallway again. Sam watches your eyes dart around and then you walk to the hallway closet. You open the door and hunt around inside it.

“What are you doing?” Sam asks, confused.

“Got it!” You climb out of the closet, a woolen scarf raised above your head, held tightly in your right fist.

“A scarf?” Sam asks and then watches in bemusement in as you bury your face in it and audibly sniff at it.

You pull the scarf away. “Alright, if we don’t know where she is, let’s track her.” Sam watches you deeply inhale the air around you. “Mmmm, she left maybe an hour ago? Let’s see where.”

Sam follows you out of Karen’s house and allows himself to hope. Demon cuffs and a flask of holy water clank together in his pocket.

***

Leaving the pick-up outside Karen’s, you lead Sam down the street, nose working hard. The trail is leading towards where you know Karen’s favourite diner is. And then you stop, eyes already finding what you seek. Across a street corner, sat in a diner booth by the window is Karen. Just as you near a crossing, Karen gets up from her seat and you can see Dean leading her out of the building.

“Look, you get Karen away from Dean and I’ll handle him.” Sam stands beside you, watching the scene in the diner.

“But your arm…”

“I’ll be fine. Get Karen away from Dean.”

It sounds so easy, coming from Sam. You nod and head across the street, walking towards the diner, trying to stay out of Dean’s line of sight. You’re vaguely aware of Sam heading further ahead, so he can approach from a different direction.

The two of them exit the diner and Karen looks to be unaware that anything unusual might be happening. Oblivious to what Dean really is. You start jogging towards them, planning to bowl into Karen and tear her away from Dean’s side. The two of them reach the mouth of an alleyway and head within it. You follow.

Showing a finesse of movement and awareness that you had not seen from Dean previously, the demon pivots on the spot and faces you, the First Blade drawn against Karen’s neck. You know the moment you look into Dean’s blackened eyes that you were a fool to think that you could get the jump on Dean without a hint of your usual potions and powders.

“Y/N!” Karen shouts in surprise and hope, pulling towards Dean, trying to get away from the blade.

“Dean, look, you don’t have to do this,” you plead.

The malice on Dean’s face is clear. “But I do, Y/N. I told this would happen. You batted for Team Sam and I gotta enforce the rules.”

_Where the fuck is Sam?!_ “No, no you don’t. Look, I’ll leave with you now. No fuss. You can do to me whatever you want. Whatever you desire. Just let Karen go, please.”

Dean lets the First Blade knick the side of Karen’s neck and your best friend lets out a whimper. A thin trail of blood slides down Karen’s neck and you hold off from screaming at Dean.

“It’s a tempting offer, Y/N, but I think it’s time that Karen and I spent some quality time together.” Dean leans in towards Karen and kisses the side of her neck. Karen shivers. You know it’s the demon inside driving Dean, because the real Dean doesn’t think of your friend in that way. The real Dean likes to take Karen drinking and see who ends up on the floor first.

There’s movement behind Dean and Karen. Suddenly, Dean staggers and hisses, white smoke rising from his skin. Karen struggles and breaks free from Dean. Her feet carry her towards you and then she’s falling, the First Blade sticking from her right side. You scream and see Sam cuffing Dean, but the damage has already been done.

Rushing to Karen’s side, you catch her before she hits the ground and then fall with her.

“KAREN! SAM!” You scream and pull your jacket off. Karen’s blood is flowing over your hands and clothes. You hold a hand to the Blade and pull it out in one swift movement and then bundle your jacket over it, trying to stem the flow. Gibberish flows from your mouth and you don’t know what to do with yourself.

You have no idea of how much time has passed, but it’s not until the alley is filled from flashing blue lights that you look up from Karen’s breathing. Hands covered in purple medical gloves reach down towards the two of you and words you can’t understand are said.

“Please, please help Karen,” you cry, tears starting to flow freely. Through wet eyes, you look up and down the alley. There’s no one else there except for the EMTs trying to help and several police officers.

Sam and Dean are gone.


	6. Worth saving

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Karen lies in a hospital bed, unconscious and Sam knows that forgiveness is in short supply.

Cold. Black.

Sticky. Swaying.

WEEEEEE, WOOOOO, WEEEEEE, WOOOOO...

BIPPPP, BIPPPP, BIPPPP...

“We’ve got her stabilized for now, but she’s lost a lot of blood. Is there anything about Karen’s medical history we should know about?”

“She, uh, she’s… Allergic to penicillin… I think that’s the big one.”

BIPPPP, BIPPPP, BIPPPP...

Swaying. Sticky.

Black. Cold.

BIPPPP, BIPPPP, BIPPPP…

“Hey, some cops will want to talk to you when we get to…”

Darkness. Warm. Soft.

BIPPPP, BIPPPP…

“And you’re sure?”

“Yes, the blade looked like it was made from the jawbone of some animal.”

BIPPPP, BIPPPP, BIPPPP…

“Thank you, well that confirms what Karen’s surgeon told us. Look, you’re free to go, but if you remember anything that might help us in our investigation, please don’t hesitate to call me on this number. Or if Karen tells you anything, call me.”

“T-thanks.”

“Your friend sounds like a fighter, she’s gonna pull through.”

BIPPPP, BIPPPP, BIPPPP…

“Thank you, Officer White. And t-thanks again for finding me some clean clothes.”

“Hey, just trying to do my job. Now you make sure you get some sleep.”

BIPPPP, BIPPPP, BIPPPP…

Soft. Warm. Darkness.

BIPPPP, BIPPPP, BIPPPP…

“Y/N?”

“Sam?! What… what the hell are you doing here?! Scrap that. Where the fuck did you go?!”

BIPPPP, BIPPPP, BIPPPP…

“I’m sorry, I had to get De-”

“Karen was dying in that alleyway… SHE MAY STILL!”

BIPPPP, BIPPPP…

“Is… is there anything I can do?”

“Where’s Dean now?”

BIPPPP, BIPPPP…

“Locked up in the car. He can’t go anywhere.”

“Good. Look, can you… can you help me go get my chest? It’s in the Impala… Maybe there’s something in there that can still help Karen.”

BIPPPP, BIPPPP, BIPPPP…

“Now?”

“Yes: now.”

BIPPPP, BIPPPP, BIPPPP…

Darkness. Safe? Warm. Soft.

BIPPPP, BIPPPP, BIPPPP…

“So her aunt’s coming?”

“Yeah. Should be here in a few more hours, she was visiting friends.”

BIPPPP, BIPPPP…

“Do you need me to get anything?”

“Yeah, need some more…”

BIPPPP, BIPPPP, BIPPPP…

Soft. Warm. Thirsty. Darkness.

“Okay, can you hold the bowl for me so I can suck some of this up without spilling the rest everywhere.”

“Uh, sure. What’s it gonna do anyway? Is it gonna heal her?”

BIPPPP, BIPPPP, BIPPPP, BIPP, BIPP, BIPPPP, BIPPPP, BIPPPP…

“Not completely, but it’ll give her a decent chance. A better one than she has right now.”

“Hey… How many times has Dean killed you?”

BIPPPP, BIPPPP…

“I am not talking about that right now! Seriously, no. Just no. Let me heal Karen up.”

“We’re gonna have to talk about it some-”

BIPPPP, BIPPPP, BIPPPP…

“How about we never talk about it. I could completely live with never talking about it.”

“But if you’re coming back to the-”

BIPPPP, BIPPPP, BIPPPP…

“Bunker?! Well, there’s definitely nothing left for me back home now. Karen’s not going to want anything to do with any of us after this. I got nowhere else to go Sam. I can’t be out on my own in case Crowley decides he wants his business partner back. And that’s if no one else knows about me. You know that, but don’t you dare take advantage of that fact.”

“Fuck, Y/N, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.”

BIPPPP, BIPPPP…

“Look, can we just swing by my grandfather’s old store before we head back to Lebanon? There’s a few things left that I didn’t get the chance to grab before the last time. Shouldn’t take too much room in the car.”

“Of course. Look, Y/N, I didn’t mean for any of this to turn out this way. Hell, when you left, I dreamed of you coming back and just everything being alright again. The three of us working cases together. Cosy nights marathoning the Lord of the Rings. Days buried in research… But when Dean… It’s been tough since you left. I’ll understand if you don’t want to-”

BIPPPP, BIPPPP, BIPPPP…

“Mmmmmmmm… Mmmm… Mmmmnnnnhhh… Sam… I… I still want you.”

“That’s good, because I still want you. I want you so much, Y/N… Mmmmm… Mmmm… Mmmmmmnnnhhhhhhhh.”

BIPPPP, BIPPPP…

“Mmm… Sam… You know we’ve never had the most perfect of relationships. You know that, right. Understand that. But, I want to give things another go.”

“And… when I’ve cured… Dean?”

BIPPPP, BIPPPP…

“I don’t know.”

“Dean probably won’t know either once he’s cured.”

BIPPPP, BIPPPP, BIPPPP…

“You sure you can do that?”

“Yes. The ritual’s worked before. It almost worked on Crowley once too.”

BIPPPP, BIPPPP, BIPPPP…

“The trials… Do you… Do you regret not finishing them?”

“I… Sometimes do. If I had completed the trials, Kevin wouldn’t be dead. Dean would never have gotten the Mark and done all the fucked up things that he’s done… The two of us would never have met, obviously.”

BIPPPP, BIPPPP…

“Would there still be all the mess in heaven?”

“Probably. It’d either be worse or the same.”

BIPPPP, BIPPPP, BIPPPP…

Darkness. Thirsty. Warm. Soft. Steady.

“We still need to finish that game of Risk.”

“Y/N… how much did Dean…”

BIPPPP, BIPPPP…

“It wasn’t just killing me, Sam… I couldn’t risk saying no. To him. Ever. If I did there was a chance that he would have come here sooner.”

“I don’t know what to say to that.”

BIPPPP, BIPPPP…

“It was never too rough, but… There’s a lot of wounds that are gonna need healing once you cure Dean. I only know what he’s done since I ran from Crowley and that was enough… Sam, you’ll only be giving him his soul back, right?”

“That’s all the ritual does.”

BIPPPP, BIPPPP, BIPPPP…

“I suppose that will have to be enough for now… I’m not terrified of Dean, Sam.”

“You’re not?”

BIPPPP, BIPPPP, BIPPPP…

“No. I’m angry with him. Really fucking angry. And I don’t want to be, because demons don’t have a moral compass. They do whatever the hell they please and damn you as many times as they can in the process.”

“When we’ve got Dean back… He’ll be feeling plenty guilty. He’ll be punishing himself enough for everything that he’s done. I doubt we’ll need to do much… I’m not saying forgive him right now, but Dean is going to be more than just his own worst critic when we get him back.”

BIPPPP, BIPPPP…

“You’re right, but it doesn’t make me feel any better.”

“We should go soon...”

BIPPPP, BIPPPP…

“Mmmmm… Mmmmmmmnh… Mmmmmmmm… Mmmmhhhmmmhh.”

“Mmmm… Mmmmmmmmmmmhhhh… Mmmmmmmm.”

BIPPPP…

Light. Warm. Soft.

“Jeez, you two! Get a room!”

***

A lot is left unsaid between Karen and you. Sitting there in her hospital room, you give her what you hope is a warm smile after the second doctor has been in and checked on her progress. But there’s no hiding the tumult of emotions flitting across Karen’s face. The pain that’s there and the relief. Knowledge that in the last twelve hours Karen believed that she would die back there in that alleyway. Believed that Dean would do horrible, indescribable things to her.

You know these looks, because you have shared some of them during the time since your return from Purgatory. Sam is checking on Dean at the moment and you’re soon going to have to say goodbye to Karen. Not wanting to be at the hospital when her aunt arrives.

Forgiveness had been quickly dealt out to you and even Sam. The older Winchester’s name is not allowed to grace Karen’s chapped lips. You’re not surprised. Holding a cup of water with a straw out to Karen, you help her take a sip and you can’t help wondering if Karen will be okay without you around while she heals.

Karen’s mouth pops off the straw and she raises an eyebrow at you while you put the cup back down. “The docs seem kinda mystified as to how it is that I’m doing so well… would you maybe have something to do with that?”

“I couldn’t leave you here in that state.”

“But you and Sam are going to leave here soon, right?” Karen’s voice is hard.

“Yes… I’m gonna get a few last things from the store and… and then I don’t plan on coming back.” You see movement outside the room and Sam’s there, waiting just beside the doorway.

“Probably for the best.” There’s tears in Karen’s eyes. You’re not sure what’s going through her head, but she looks like she’s someone who’s losing her best friend all over again.

“I… We can send each other Christmas cards.”

That gets a smile. “Christmas cards… okay. Sure… Y/N, please make sure Dean gets, uh, fixed.”

Dean’s name stops the breath in your lungs. Freezing you to the spot. “W-we’ll cure Dean.”

“Then you should go now.” Karen reaches her left hand out to you and you get up. Your best friend pulls you into the tightest, one armed hug she can manage and then she lets go of you.

***

Evening is settling over this corner of Oregon and the hospital is settling down into the routine of evening visitors. Sam leads you outside, holding something wrapped in leather under his good arm and you holding your chest. A familiar, scruff covered face steps out from behind a sign and gives the two of you a calculated smile. _Couldn’t you have waited, Crowl-_

“Moose! I see that you have company.” Crowley looks at you and Sam tenses, moving himself closer to your side. Sam had hoped that he would have had time to wander off by himself for this meeting.

“Look, I’ve got the Blade here. Leave Y/N out of this.”

“The three of you heading home to play happy families?”

Sam’s about to reply when you swear at the King of Hell.

“Darling, such language! I’d be careful with that one Samantha… you don’t know where she’s been.”

“How about you shut your fucking mouth before I whip up some more anti-demon juice!” You shout at Crowley. That earns the three of you concerned stares from the few civilians walking around outside.

“Hey!” Sam hisses. “I thought you came here to handle the Blade.”

“You’re right, Samantha. Sorry, should always be business before pleasure. Yes, well, bring it here and I’ll be on my way.”

There’s anger coming off of you in waves and Sam can see it in the tautness of your stance while you stay still, watching the scene. While Dean had managed to give Sam the slip, he’d still made a deal for the information and there was no way he was going to keep this damned Blade near Dean while he was still sporting the Mark, let alone being a demon on top of it.

Walking over to Crowley, Sam hands over the wrapped Blade. “What are you gonna do with it?”

“Toss it into a volcano, leave it on the Moon. I'll get creative. Believe me-”

“You got what you wanted, Crowley, leave.” The vehemence in your voice is clear.

“Sorry, Moose, would love to chat, but-”

“We’re not square, Crowley, not one bit. If I ever see-”

“Stop it, Samantha. No one likes a tease.”

Crowley disappears in the blink of an eye, leaving Sam wondering if this is all still going to come back and bite him in the ass.

***

Dean watches you begin to pile several cardboard boxes filled with your things from the old store. It’s not much, just a few things you’d like to have. A few keepsakes and some of your grandfather’s old books on alchemy.

You ignore Dean’s stares, not wanting to give the demon any more satisfaction. Sam patiently waits in the driver’s seat. The three of you had over a day’s worth of driving ahead of you, once comfort and food breaks were factored in. You’d said to Sam on the way from Karen’s room that maybe it would be worth stopping off for some alchemy supplies part way back and you could then mix up some potent knockout powder to use on Dean.

But when you’d both checked where some stores would be on your route back, you found that you’d have to take an eight hour detour and by that point you might as well not bother. So you load your few remaining possessions into the Impala and hope that Dean maintains his silence. Loading the last box, you close the door and walk around to the free section of seat behind Sam. You’re glad that Sam had taken the time to remove all of the crap Dean had left inside the vehicle.

Hitting the road again, you manage to make into the next state before Dean says anything.

“So, who’s looking forward to playing happy families again? I know _I am_ ,” Dean says suddenly, the last part containing all the menace you don’t want to imagine and certainly don’t want to experience.

Briefly, you wonder where Sam’s demon knife may have gotten to, but your thoughts stop when you see Dean looking at you over his shoulder. There’s a grin on his face that wouldn’t look out of place on a Great White. It promises all kinds of things should he get free before Sam cures him.

***

The Bunker’s a void of quiet. Sam’s leading the way from the garage, a cool-box of blood swinging from his one good hand. He’d hardly slept since returning, but had managed to cuddle with you for a few hours and doze, after settling Dean in the dungeon.

It was now or never to start the blood cure. Sam didn’t believe he could waste any more time waiting for Castiel to appear as back-up. Every few steps Sam chances a look back at you, trying to figure out what you’re thinking about. Several times already he had said not to think about anything Dean had said during the car ride home and to give no thought to what he might say while the cure is being administered.

Sam’s no idiot though. He knows reassurances and rationalizing can only help so much in the face of the cruelty that Dean had been spouting off for hours on end. Before reaching the dungeon room with the Devil’s Trap that’s keeping Dean hostage, Sam stops and turns to you.

“You don’t have to be there while I do this.” Sam chances a look at the blood box and then looks back to you. “I can do this by myself.”

“What and let you be tormented all by your lonesome? _Sam_.”

“This is not going to be a walk in the park. The car ride back with him was bad enough, but now that the demon side of Dean knows the jig is up? The words that are going to come out of Dean are going to be a million times more vile, hateful and terrorizing.”

Sam watches you think this over.

“Fine,” you eventually say, “I’ll go hang out in the library or your room, or something. But if you need any help? Come get me.” Turning on your feet, you stalk off back into the living quarters.

***

“Come on, Sammy! Don’t you want to hang out with your big brother? Spend a little quality time?” Dean’s voice booms from somewhere near by. You’d fallen asleep in Sam’s bed and have no idea how long you’ve been asleep, but what’s clear from the tone of Dean’s voice is that he’s not human and he’s looking to cause some damage.

You slip quietly out of Sam’s bed and pick up an angel blade from Sam’s dresser. Hefting the blade in your hand, you wonder if truly, deep down…

_Can I bring myself to kill Dean if I have to? Is he worth saving?_

You hear boots approach the doorway to Sam’s room and smell a whiff of sulfur.

Dean is on the other side of the door. Fear begins to grip you, your earlier toughness slipping away, because you understand there’s more to fear than just death.

“I know you’re in there, Y/N,” says Dean, his voice full of promise.

 _This is not Dean. Dean Winchester is worth saving_ , you start telling yourself, trying not to think of all he’d put you through and what he’d done to Karen. _Dean Winchester is a good man. Dean Winchester is worth saving._

“C’mon, Y/N, let’s go find Sammy together. Have some fun.” Dean begins to turn the door handle.

_Dean Winchester is worth saving... Fuck, Sam, where are you?_


	7. It’s not over

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You try to keep Dean busy until help can arrive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's a short update this week, but I hurt my back on Friday and it's pretty painful sitting around to type at the moment.

A sense of dread curls through Sam’s guts. He’s poised down the hallway from your room. Demon blade in his left hand and the knowledge that he can’t take Dean on in his present state. The flask of holy water in his back pocket would buy some time, but he’s finding it difficult to work through the idea that it doesn’t matter if you die. That it doesn’t matter if you get hurt, because you’ll heal.

But he knows that’s not completely true. Knows that each hurt, each death marks you where it can’t be seen. Except when he looks in your eyes.

Leaning forward, staying close to the wall, Sam glances towards his room’s door and sees Dean finally pushing it open.

“DEAN!” Sam calls.

“Sammy!” Dean looks down the hallway to Sam and grins. “We were just coming to find you.”

***

Fighting the sense of fear building in your chest, you keep your breath steady and stare at the gap left by the open door. Dean’s still holding onto it. _Maybe I could yank it open, dodge around him and run?_ You ponder, slinking closer to the door, angel blade still in hand.

“C’mon, Dean, this is between you and me,” Sam yells.

 _Now or never…_ You yank the door from Dean and your feet slam against the hard floor, trying to power you away from danger. It’s a lost cause--Dean twists and grabs your left wrist before you even get a foot past him.

“You’re not going anywhere, sweetheart.” Dean pulls you around and holds you against his chest. He shakes the angel blade from your hand and it clatters to the floor.

Hot breath warms the side of your neck and you offer no resistance as Dean licks and then kisses your skin. Sam watches the two of you and you give him an apologetic look, hoping that he realizes that you don’t want this. Left hand stroking down the side of your body, Dean pulls you closer to him and begins to grind against you. _At least he’s not trying to kill Sam_ , you think as you try to console yourself.

“This what you meant by having some fun?” You ask, playing along, trying to keep Dean away from Sam. _Please say Sam has called Castiel and he is on his way. Please!_

“Maybe,” Dean whispers, then more loudly, “Sam, she tell you all the fun things we got up to? God, Y/N, can be such a little slut when you least expect it.”

The words are meant to hurt and you can feel your face reddening. Dean’s left hand cups your left breast through your clothes and he squeezes it just so, pleasure streaking against terror and confusing you. Mouth finding your neck again, Dean sucks a hickey into your skin and nuzzles at you, possessive and loving. But there’s not really any love here, the actions are just a facade, a way for Dean to torture Sam a little without sinking a blade into his flesh.

There’s an angry glare in Sam’s eyes and his cheeks are dimpling. _What’s he planning?_ You wonder, but then stop, Dean’s left hand now sliding down your stomach and stopping at your flies. Sure fingers pop your top button and pull down your zipper, and then push their way inside your panties.

Gasping at the contact, you respond to Dean by shoving yourself against him and encouraging his hand. _If he’s too busy playing with me, he’s too busy to kill Sam_ , is the logic running through your head over and over, justifying the display you’re putting on. You manage to throw Sam another apologetic look and you pray he understands why you’re doing this, why you’re not just breaking your arm and running away.

“See, Sammy. She just loves all of this attention.” Dean’s fingers slip between your folds and you can almost feel the smile forming on his face as he finds the wetness there. “I’m sure,” Dean pushes a finger inside you, which you can’t help bucking towards it, “if we’d just fucked her right the first time, Y/N wouldn’t have gone chasing tail, literally, into Purgatory.” That hurts. _This is not Dean, you remind yourself._

“Dean-” Sam’s words are cut off by another gasp being wrung from you--Dean plunging two fingers in. It burns a little, you weren’t quite ready for two fingers, but you try to remain strong for Sam.

“Oh and by the way, Sammy, you’ve only got yourself to blame for me getting loose.” Dean moves his fingers faster, his right arm holding you close and tight to him, and his clothed hard-on pressing against your cheeks. “All that blood you pumped into me to make me human… meant the less demon I was, the less those cuffs work. Heck, I just walked over that Devil’s Trap.”

“Look, Dean, you said it yourself, we were getting close, just come back and we can finish the treatments.”

“Oh, we’re getting close alright,” says Dean in a cocky voice. His fingers pump harder, hitting that spot and you cry out, body being wracked with pleasure. “And you act like I want to be cured. Do you want me to be cured, Y/N?”

The fingers inside you start to trace a circle, rubbing up against your sides, drawing a long moan from you. “Deeeaaan…” you pant and feel Dean’s smirk behind your head, your body shuddering against his, so close to finding release. But then you start to wonder, _what happens if I come? Will Dean just discard me and head after Sam? Fuck, Cas, where are you?_

“C’mon, Y/N, surely you don’t want me cured?” Dean asks again, fingers pressing up to your spot again and making you cry out.

“What… I… want….” you pant.

“Yes, baby girl?” Dean kisses your neck.

 _Need to keep him away from Sam, keep Dean occupied_. “You… Inside.” Glancing to Sam, you see hurt on his face and you wish you could just shout out what you’re doing, just tell him everything’s gonna be alright.

That earns you a greedy mouth sucking and biting at your neck, almost hard enough to break skin. Dean’s fingers slip out of you and you can’t help the needy moan that escapes you.

“Don’t worry baby girl, gonna fill you right up.” Dean shoves you up against the wall outside Sam’s room, left arm braced against your back and pulls your pants and underwear down. You hear Dean’s belt buckle being undone, his flies opening, his jeans and underwear being pulled out of the way. “Sam, if you move an inch or don’t watch, I will snap Y/N’s neck and then cut out her heart.”

Dean turns your head so you can see Sam. The younger Winchester is unmoving, concern and anger writ large on his face. He doesn’t know if you can survive having your heart cut out. You’re not even sure, it was about the only thing Harriet had not tried on you in what felt like a lifetime ago.

But what’s certain is that Sam won’t survive having his heart cut out. You stay pliant, Dean shifting your position so your hands are braced against the wall, legs apart. He lines himself up with you; you’re shaking, fear starting to catch up with you and then--

“It’s over,” says a gravelly voice from behind you and never before have you been so glad for Castiel.

There’s an inhuman snarl and you feel Dean being pulled away from you. Ducking out of the way, you pull up your clothes and see Castiel wrestling with a half-naked Dean.

“Dean, it’s over,” Castiel repeats. The angel begins to drag Dean down the hall, back towards the dungeon.

Sam rushes to your side and grips you in his left arm. “Y/N, it’s gonna be okay, it’s gonna be okay.”

And then you realize you’re crying, hot wet breaths escaping, tears running down your cheeks. Castiel is here and Dean is finally going to be cured, the nightmare that had started since you’d returned from Purgatory will be over.

Alone, Sam pulls you up to your feet, but your pants fall down. Sam scoots downwards to help you pull them back up, but his eyes catch on the tattoo on your right thigh.

“Y/N, what’s this?” Sam asks, forgetting about your clothes, left hand straying to the orange tinted ink.

“I-”

Sam’s fingers trace the runes. “Y/N, why are Dean, Cas, Crowley and mine’s names on here? Why’s Jody’s? Fuck… who isn’t on this list. _What the hell is this?_ ” Sam looks up at you, expression fearful.

Words still in your throat. Pulling himself and your clothes up, Sam lets you make yourself decent again.

“I-” _What do I tell him? What do I say?_ Because the list isn’t some Purgatory drawn hitlist, though you’d met plenty of monsters that wanted the owners of those names dead. No, it’s purpose and existence was not for such a crude purpose.

You give one last try to speak and the words are almost there. “It’s a-” you start to cough and then you bring up a thick clod of blood. The hallway spins and there’s too many Sams. A firm left arm tries to support your weight and you’re aware of Sam shouting before you pass out.

The nightmare isn’t over yet.


	8. Catch-up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel finds out why you have a list of names tattooed on your thigh.

_Dean is Dean_ , Sam keeps repeating over in his head as he watches his brother walk back to his bedroom. The relief he feels for Dean’s recovery is, however, dampened by the knowledge that Castiel is currently sat with you, keeping watch until you regain consciousness.

“You’re hovering,” Dean accuses Sam as he finally sits down on his own bed.

“I don’t really care if you’re feeling awkward right now.” Sam leans against the doorframe to Dean’s room and tries not to think about had happened in only the past hour.

“Y/N’s gonna kill me,” states Dean, regret tinging his voice.

Sam can’t imagine how guilty Dean might be feeling. He wouldn’t mind punching Dean, after all he’d heard and seen, but he is glad to have his brother back.

“I… I certainly wouldn’t accept any food or drink from her for now. She might slip you something.”

Dean’s stomach gives an empty growl. “Seriously?” Dean looks down at his stomach and Sam laughs.

“I don’t know how we’re gonna fix this mess… but food I can do. I’ll go grab us something.” Sam starts to turn.

“Wait!” Dean’s on his feet, rubbing his neck awkwardly. “Get a double bacon cheeseburger for Y/N.”

Raising an eyebrow, Sam waits for an explanation, but Dean doesn’t offer one. They stare at each other for moment, too much left unsaid, but that’s just it: it’s too much.

***

Blue, squinting eyes stare down at you as your eyes flicker open and you gaze up into Castiel’s concerned face. Castiel is sat beside you on Sam’s bed.

“You are awake.” Castiel tilts his head and you feel like every atom of your being is held within his gaze.

Sitting up in Sam’s bed, you draw yourself level with Cas. There’s only one question you want answered right now. “Dean, is he--”

“Cured? Yes, Sam finished the procedure.”

A small feeling of relief washes over you, only to be chased up by guilt from what you had done in front of Sam. Drawing your knees up, you rest your arms on your knees and try to not dwell on the nightmare you’ve been living since Purgatory. Your hands instinctively curl around the silver nest holding your Philosopher's Stone, the feel of it reassuring in your hand.

“That’s good,” you finally manage.

“Y/N… why is my name tattooed upon your thigh along with Dean, Sam, Crowley and Jody’s?”

“I can’t tell you… there’s an enchantment.” You hadn’t believed there had been until you’d passed out. You’d been warned, though the enchantment is an inconvenience rather than life threatening as it would be to most creatures.

Frowning, Castiel scoots a little closer to you on the bed. He reaches two fingers out to you. “May I?”

“May you what?” You ask nervously.

“See back to when you got the names upon your skin.”

 _But what else will he see?_ You wonder, warily eyeing Castiel’s fingers. “You’ll just look at my memories of Purgatory right?” _Because I don’t want you seeing what’s happened since I came back._

Cas seems to guess at why you might be hesitating. “Yes, just your memories of Purgatory.”

You take a deep breath. “Okay.”

Fingers touching your forehead, it’s strange the way it works. You watch with Cas as he digs through your memories, quickly reaching your final days in Purgatory. Showing what you could not say.

The meeting you were forced into by the Alpha Shapeshifter after you’d fled the dragons and were searching for the portal home. Feeling almost bodiless, Castiel and you stand side-by-side as the scene in a darkened corner of forest plays out.

Bound to wooden stakes driven into the ground, firelight dances across your skin and then a crude needle is set to your exposed thigh. The Alpha Shapeshifter--currently a man dressed in rags, with long, dishevelled black hair--is kneeling beside you, murmuring words as the orange tinted ink is driven into your skin. You sense Cas flinching beside you.

“I dislike getting tattoos,” the angel states as you watch the memory.

The Alpha is soon done, magic driving the ink it seems. He smiles down at you. “You will bring these five together. And allow me back into your world.”

“Why them?” Your memory self asks, sobbing.

“Four of this number had a hand in my coming here. One is an ally of three-”

“But what do-”

“You’ll know when the time comes.” The Alpha strokes your face and your memory self shivers. “Don’t worry. It’ll all be revealed in good time.”

“Look, Jody, she’s innocent. She’s no one. Surely there’s someone el-”

“One of the number must be an ally. They… have few and I cannot use you.”

“I’ll just-”

“Tell them? Try, if you wish, but it won’t do you any good.”

The Alpha uses a crude blade made from bone to cut your bonds free and stands away from your prone body. “You better go find that portal… before the dragons reach you.”

Sam’s room appears around you once more. Head spinning a little, you rest against the headboard. Castiel looks at you like you might strike him at any moment, body inching away from yours. He’s paler than he was before looking into your memories.

“Cas?”

“That used more of my… than I was expecting.” The angel stands up. “I need to speak with Sam.”

Castiel’s gone before you can say anything else. You struggle out of Sam’s bed and chase after Cas.

***

“Dean?” Castiel calls from Dean’s doorway.

Letting out a long breath, Dean looks up to his friend and tries not to think back on the day’s events. Instead he smiles.

“What’s up?”

“Where’s Sam?” Cas looks nervous, it doesn’t suit him and Dean can feel himself starting to mirror it.

“Gone to get food. Why, what’s wrong?”

“Yo, Cas?!” You call from further down the hallway.

Dean doesn’t miss the way that Cas looks to the sound of your voice. The way an all too human swallow bobs his Adam’s apple. Suddenly, Dean realizes he doesn’t want to see you yet: or rather he can’t. The fresh memories of all he has done suddenly collide within him and he begins to shake.

 _No, I need to be strong. Need to be strong for Y/N_. Getting up from his bed, bringing himself under control, Dean wanders over to Castiel and motions for the angel to follow him.

Walking out into the hallway, Dean only takes a few steps and then sees you rounding a bend. He stares at you, breathing getting faster, heart pumping furiously, unsure if he should stay or if he should run. Guilt weighing down on him.

Dean takes another step forward and then Cas places a hand his chest, holding Dean back.

“Cas, what the hell!” Dean shouts, trying to bat the angel’s hand away.

“Y/N, please… stay back.” Cas won’t shift.

“Guys, what’s going on?” Calls Sam from behind Dean.

Glancing over his shoulder, Dean gives his brother a nervous smile and then looks from Sam, to Cas and then to Y/N. “I don’t know, I was kinda hoping Cas and Y/N would fill us in.”

But deep in Dean’s gut, he already knows that it can’t be good news.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's taken me so long to update. Christmas and New Year was busier than I expected, and I've been working on some Big Bang fics, challenges and requests.


	9. Stay put

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam battles to keep you in the Bunker.

Dean, Sam and Cas are sat opposite you at the incident room table. Dean’s picking at the food Sam bought, your own burger is in front of you, packaged up and untouched. The old map is lit up from underneath and out of the corner of your eye you can see the long forgotten game of _Risk_. It’s a sight to pull at your heart, because it’s not forgotten: there’s no dust and the pieces are left just so. _Sam must have been keeping it there, ready, for us._

Sam clears his throat. “So…” He looks at you, expectantly.

Reaching out to your burger you start unwrapping it, unable to answer Sam’s unasked question. Nothing was keeping you there bar you having decided that the guys deserved answers.

“What’s... the... deal... with... the... tattoo?” Dean asks, chewing on a mouthful of burger. You’re surprised he’s here at all, his skin waxen and pale in comparison to what it normally is. His eyes are almost fever bright.

“I… can’t tell you. If I try, I’ll bring up some lung again and pass out.”

Nodding, Sam picks up a fry with his left fingers, leaving it poised in front of his mouth. “Cas, do you know?” Sam eats the fry.

The seraph’s eyes bore into you as his mouth twists to answer. “The Alpha Shapeshifter placed it there. It bears five names: Dean’s, yours Sam, my own, Crowley’s… and Jody’s.”

“Well that’s a weird grocery list to get inked into your skin,” Dean jokes.

You want to share in Dean’s humor, but you know that you’re either going to be trussed up and locked behind a door somewhere until they figure out what to do with you or… told to leave. You’d been ignoring what the tattoo meant since the moment the Shapeshifter let you go. Now faced with three of those it’s intended for, in its own twisted way, you could no longer ignore what it is asking of you.

Except you don’t know what it is that it’s asking. All you know is that something to do with four good people and one asshole will bring the Shapeshifter back.

“And why’d the Shapeshifter place it there?” Sam asks as he picks up another fry, tone nonchalant but you can tell he’s worried.

Remaining silent, you let Cas answer for you. “As far as I am able to tell,” Cas says slowly, carefully picking his words, “the tattoo, Y/N and us are parts of an enchantment or summoning ritual in order to return the Alpha Shapeshifter to this plane of existence.”

“What kind of ritual or enchantment?” Half of Dean’s burger remains.

“That is not clear at this stage.” Cas finally stops staring at you and instead treats you to a concerned frown. “I… that is, Y/N’s memory indicated that she will know what is required ‘when the time comes’.”

 _And god what will it involve?_ You look at the three of them, feeling like they’ve swapped one dangerous animal for another. First Dean and now you. _Will I have to kill them? Will I?_ You start to shake, unbidden images of Sam, Dean and Castiel’s mutilated bodies leaching out into your mind’s eye. Blood everywhere, flesh rent and torn. Huge gashes where their throats should be.

Your stomach churns and you’re pushing your chair back and getting up from your seat before anyone can say anything else. You wanna chuck up.

“Woah, Y/N!” Sam calls after you as you head for the communal bathroom.

***

 _Fuck. Fuck. Fuck._ Sam repeats over and over as he rushes towards the sound of you vomiting. He’s scared, sure, but more than that he’s worried. His body is tight with tension, the inevitable result of shifting from one crisis to another. The pain in his winged arm is thrumming in the background, helping to ground him as his heart races.

He knocks on the main door to the communal bathroom. “Hey, uh, need anything?”

A hacking cough greets Sam and he winces as he hears you struggle for air.

“W-water,” you croak.

“Okay, stay there.” Sam rushes off and heads to the kitchen. He finds a clean glass and awkwardly sloshes water over the side of it as he fills it from the tap.

A chair scrapes along the floor behind him and he twists to see you sitting down at the kitchen table. _When did she get so good at sneaking around?_ He finds himself wondering as he puts the glass of water down in front of you.

“Thanks.”

“Thought I said to stay in the bathroom,” says Sam, without anger.

“I should leave.” You pick up the glass of water and take a sip before putting the glass down.

Sam stays silent for a moment and then kneels down in front of you. “You only just got here.”

You look at him with pained eyes, fear and torment clearly written there. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You’re not going to hurt me.” Sam puts a reassuring hand on your knee and squeezes it. “So don’t worry.”

“But we don’t know what or how… any of this thing. It’s not safe for me to be around you.”

“If you leave then we can’t help you be free of this.” Sam tries his puppy eyes.

“But you’ll be free of me.”

“I just brought a demon into my home. I think we can handle this.” Sam moves his hand to cup the back of your neck and pulls you forward into a light kiss, tasting mint.

Backing off, you lean your forehead against Sam’s. “But Dean and the Mark?”

“Okay, so maybe we’ve got more than one mystical piece of body art to handle at the moment. But I think we’ll all be safer if you stay with us.”

“So you can keep an eye on me?”

And okay, that is part of the reason, Sam can’t deny that. “Only a little, but do you understand… Y/N, you mean so much to me… You’re here and I don’t want to lose you again. _We_ don’t want to lose you.”

_Because Dean is gonna be pissed if I let you walk away again._

“Sam…” And the look you give Sam is so grateful and terrified, he has to kiss you. He pulls your lips to his again, hand light at the base of your skull. Sam’s lips are gentle to start and then he eases your mouth open, the kiss working up into something more.

“Ahem,” Cas coughs with an attempt at tact that falls short. Sam breaks the kiss and catches his breath.

“Yes, Cas?” Sam asks, trying to not sound annoyed, but he’s half hard.

“Dean and I agree that it’s best Y/N stays with us.”

Sam hears you stifle a giggle.

“Okay, Cas, brilliant. Well, Y/N and I are going to hit the hay. Don’t worry about us. We’ll see you in the morning.” Sam waves his hand, trying to indicate that Cas can really go.

“Actually, I need to attend to other business. But I am sure we will see each other soon.”

Sam huffs out a breath. “Sure. Fine… Keep in touch.”

“Of course. Bye, Sam, Y/N.” And then the angel walks away leaving the two of you alone. Sam does appreciate Cas as a dear friend, _but his timing sucks_.

Sam’s drawn away from his thoughts the second you begin to nuzzle at him. He’s glad of the change in you, of the movement towards what the two of you once had and what Sam so desperately wants to rebuild.

Light footfalls signal Dean entering the kitchen. “Hey, uh, I’m gonna head to bed. Kinda whacked. See you in the morning.”

The sudden tension in your body as Dean speaks doesn’t escape Sam’s notice, but he tries not to dwell on what happened earlier. He needs to believe he can rebuild. For now. Instead of believing that Dean could die and become a demon again or that you might suddenly kill him.

“Sure, uh, night,” Sam replies, choosing to ignore the sloshing sound of a liquor bottle being carried away by Dean.

***

Head resting on his pillows, Dean stares up at the ceiling. It’s his first night in his own bed in months. Memory foam still holding him just right. The bottle of Johnnie Walker he liberated is empty and hardly did anything to numb the ache in his heart or the way he wants to crawl out of his own skin.

He remembers everything. And the Mark of Cain still gnaws at him. Making him itch to head out and stab a few hearts and cut off a few heads.

But what’s worse is the guilt burning in his gut. He remembers how you felt beneath his hands in the hallway, how as a demon he wanted to take, take, take in front of Sam like some animal. Worse, he can remember further back and the few times he sunk the First Blade deep into your flesh.

Shifting onto his side, Dean swallows, seeing you all the times that you let him do things to you. All the times he now knows you were just playing along so that you wouldn’t get hurt or he wouldn’t run off and hurt Karen...

 _Oh fuck, Karen!_ A whimper escapes Dean and he shudders, glad no one can see him right now as tears prick at his eyes. _Well there’s a nugget of socializing I won’t ever get to be a part of again_ , but Dean doesn’t cry, because he can take solace in knowing that Karen is still alive. _Just heavily traumatized, yeah, great._

But the real self-loathing is reserved for every single memory he has of wronging you. Of forcing you and he knows you’ll say you consented, but at the end of the day: _it’s not consent if you’re coerced under the threat of violence._

Lying there, the Bunker settling into silence around him, Dean feels a pang of longing. Wishing he could be curled up with you and Sam. Dean doubts he’ll ever have what the three of you had back in that Dallas hotel.

Even with the ominous threat of the Alpha Shapeshifter’s plans hanging over you all, he wants that closeness again.

Dallas seems like a distant dream now rather than a memory of something that was, could still be, real.


	10. Control

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam has some good news if he gets the chance to tell you about it. Meanwhile you decide to start taking back control of your life in very unexpected ways. But are you really in control?

Despite its huge expanse, the Bunker can start to feel pretty tight and claustrophobic once you spend more than five days without heading into the light of the outside world. Cabin fever is making your skin prickle. But as you lay curled up against Sam, you hope that the morning will bring some change… if you can persuade Sam to let you out of his sight for a few hours so that you can head Concordia and grab some mail, pick up a few of life's necessities and...

Sam's alarm sounds on his cell and he pulls you with him as he stretches to the bedside counter to turn it off.

“Mor--ning,” Sam yawns, turning on the bedside lamp. He relaxes back down onto the mattress with you and starts to stroke your hair. It's half six in the morning.

Burying your face against Sam's warm chest you breathe him in and try not to nudge his hurt arm. “Morning,” you manage, muffled by his t-shirted chest.

There's no doubt that a low level of tension runs between the two of you, but it's to be expected. Sam's trying to rebuild what the two of you had. Three if you count the ways that he keeps trying to have Dean and you interact on at least a neutral level. It's not that you hate Dean, but getting your brain and body to accept that this is no longer Dean who's a demon when you're sat in the kitchen and poking at a bowl of sauce covered noodles… well it's hard going is what it is. You're not scared, but you can't help cowering just a fraction whenever Dean gets a step too close to you.

And you know that it's breaking Dean's heart. Every time. And you're working on it. He's working on it.

“What do you want to do today?”

Sam asks, hand working against the back of your neck, rubbing out the kinks its acquired from sleep.

“I… need to check a PO Box over in Concordia and pick up a few things.”

Sam's hand stills for a second and then returns to rubbing your neck. “Oh, well--”

“Sam, I can't stay in here indefinitely. Neither can you or Dean. We all gotta head out sometime. To get post, buy crap or… or head out on a hunt.”

A sigh pushes its way out of Sam and you know he knows you're right. “Maybe we could all go? What mail are you expecting anyway?”

“Supplies from a couple of other alchemists and some white witches. I'm trying to finish restocking my chest, though if you guys end up on any creature hunts soon: I want in. I'm low on a few things that are tricky for most people to get.”

“Tricky?”

You scoot up to sit. Looking down at Sam, you grin and then smile. “Well, most people find they have an issue whenever they try to snag bits and pieces from wee beasties. You know, like a lost fingers kind of issue.”

A chuckle rumbles through Sam and then he drags you back down with his good hand, pressing your mouth to his and kisses you. The spontaneity surprises you at first and then you roll with it, kissing back softly. Sam's tongue demands entrance and you let him in, both of you moaning as your tongue rubs against his. Soft kisses becoming more forceful and desperate. At some point Sam rolls you onto him, and you start to rub against his length through your pajamas and his. Hands either side of his head, wary of his damaged arm.

The two of you haven't had sex since you returned. You find your body responding to Sam's like it's the most natural thing in the world. Like there isn't months of Purgatory and a time-bomb of an enchantment between the two of you.

“Need-- more. Please, Y/N,” Sam begs, hips rolling beneath you. Taking the lead, you scramble off and remove your pajamas and Sam's.

Then you're back on top of Sam and your aching folds find his cock and fit snugly over his length. He's not inside you yet, but you use him to rub against yourself, teasing and desperate. Your folds begin to slick Sam up and it takes little effort after more breath stealing kisses to scoop Sam up inside of you. Have him fill you up and rock backwards and forwards on Sam's lap, your arms framing his face. A hand snakes up to your cheek and pulls you down to kiss you in time with your hips. You're surrounded by Sam and he's surrounded by you: warm, needy and thankful.

Rising up and then lowering yourself down, again and again, you keep to a slow and teasing rhythm. Sam's stubble is rough against your face, but you don't care as the two of you keep sucking at each other's lips and chasing each other's tongues.

Sam breaks away from your kisses and gazes longingly up into your eyes. “Fuck, Y/N, missed you so much.”

And for a moment, just as you're about to reply, the words still in your throat. The weight of what brought you to this time and place suddenly crashes down on you and a tear slips out. But your rhythm doesn't falter. You manage to smile and then surge down to capture Sam's lips again.

Sam's one good hand sneaks down between the two of you and starts to rub at your clit. You break your kisses and kneel back on your legs, getting Sam just where you want him as you use your thighs to bounce up and down on Sam. The head of Sam's cock hits your g-spot and you can feel yourself getting close as his fingers continue to work you. Breaths getting faster, Sam's mouth hangs open and you're both almost there. Sam's finger speeds up for a second and then you're there, walls clenching, orgasm pulling a shout from you. Falling forward, you capture Sam's mouth again and then he moans into your mouth as his own orgasm hits him.

Lying back down beside Sam, you curl up under his good arm and wait for the day to really start.

***

Sat in the kitchen, Dean nurses a token cup of coffee. He'd been sipping it for something to drink, but it's not what he really wants. Instead he's managed to drink just about any form of booze that had been in the Bunker and having heard Sam and you, is now considering a bottle of cursed cognac. Maybe if his insides become his outsides, he won't feel this pang in his heart so much.

The second Sam and you emerge, Dean's getting up and looking to busy himself elsewhere.

“There's fresh coffee, I've gotta go and--” Dean's about to go and head back into the library.

“Woah, no need to go,” Sam declares, pulling a mug down for himself and you. “I was just gonna ask if you wanted to join us on a run into Concordia.”

“Uh,” Dean looks to you as if to confirm this is okay. The low burn of the Mark shines through for a moment. “If you're sure.”

“I need to pick up some mail and we need to… restock,” you reply and look steadily at Dean. Look at Dean like he's someone you might actually give a damn about.

Dean catches Sam looking between the two of you like Christmas has come early. And maybe it has if you're proposing that you'll willingly spend time in his company. Having hit a bit of a dead end with research on the Mark and your tattoo, maybe some time away is just what Dean needs.

“Okay.” Dean starts heading to his room instead. Going outside deserves at least fresh clothes and him brushing his teeth.

“We'll head out in twenty. Say do you fancy getting breakfast...”

And just like that, things begin to feel a tiny bit normal again and Dean tries to stop himself from hoping. _Because that's never done any good before._

***

It's just over an hour's drive to Concordia. Dean's driving and Sam's cuddling up with you on the backseat. Sam keeps catching Dean looking at the two of you in the rear view mirror and while he sees the odd flare of envy, what he sees more in Dean's gaze is longing.

Everyone piles in to the post office to check their respective PO Boxes. While Sam and Dean walk away with a bunch of envelopes related to their credit card activities, Sam notes the huge pile of boxes you draw to yourself. In the end Dean has to help you carry them all. Watching you and Dean walk side-by-side back to the Impala, Sam allows himself a moment to hope that the three of you might get back to where you were before.

Rushing ahead to get the trunk open, Sam lets his eyes instinctively wander the small city's surrounding street. Hunter instincts always wary. The sound of the trunk closing draws him back to himself and he gets back into the Impala so that the three of you can drive over to Nel's Diner.

It's important that you all get breakfast, Sam has news he wants to share.

***

Nel's Diner has a fair few souls inside, but they're not rushed off their feet. The second the three of you step into the diner, you sense the change in Sam. Not only is the energy from earlier back, but he can't stop pressing his thigh against yours as you sit in the booth. Whatever has him riled, he doesn't say anything before you order or as you wait for you food.

And then there's Dean, sneaking glances at you whenever he can, sat opposite you. Your skin's not crawling, but you're not sure how to respond. The glances are intense and you can see the longing there. The desire. The tiny flickers of self-loathing. You barely register sliding your shoes off, but then your foot is between Dean's legs and you're taking control for the second time today. It's reckless and Dean doesn't have a chance to say yes as you gently press your toes into his crotch and start to rub him.

Dean jumps and his knees bang against the underside of the table.

“You alright?” Sam asks Dean and you smirk at the older Winchester.

“Mmmm, fine. Sam. Fine.”

Spreading your toes, you rub Dean gently and feel him starting to get hard beneath your foot. The idea of getting even--for all the times Demon Dean fucked around with you in public--enters your thoughts. And in a way it is getting even, but then you're taking something you want.

Sam pulls out his cell and starts checking a few things on it, so he doesn't see the look that passes between you and Dean. The look from Dean that asks why and if you're sure, which you reply with a nod and more pressure. Eyes rolling into the back of his head for a second, you can see Dean fighting for control. Breaths huffing out. Fists clenched.

Since Dean's return, he's done nothing but show he's a guy you can trust. That he would never treat you badly. But you know anything you do with him has to be your choice. No consequences.

“So, I think I've found a way to unbind Y/N from that tattoo--” Sam's words stop as he looks up from his cell and you notice him checking out Dean's strained expression and then look to you. “What's going on, Y/N?”

And like those reckless times you launched yourself over the banister in the incident room and let your legs be crushed, you reach down under the table and grip Sam through his pants. All mention of the tattoo having been blocked from your mind by your current actions.

“What, the… hell, Y/N!” Sam groans quietly and a low moan escapes Dean as well.

“Need to… need...” _Both of you. Need to take and not give back._ “Need you to ask for our breakfast to-go. That's what I need.”

Once the food's all boxed up, you can't help smiling as Sam and Dean try to hide themselves as they exit Nel's Diner. Sam tries to stop what's happening, but his words sound small and far away as the three of you reach the Impala and Dean heads to a motel on the outskirts of Concordia. There's no way the three of you can wait an hour to get back to the Bunker.

Checking in, a part of you wonders why you're doing this now, but the rest of you doesn't care. Dean and Sam practically drag you into the motel room the second you open the door. And then both brothers are on you, taking it in turns to steal kisses. Dean's the one that helps get everyone's clothes off. The skin on the top of your right thigh stings a little, but you think nothing of it as Sam and Dean take it in turns to play with you: hands between your legs, mouths on your nipples and lips.

Everything becomes a blur, everything hyper sensitive. Dean and Sam's previous boundaries seem to be cracked and then you're taking them both inside of you, as they lay out on opposite ends of the bed, their legs nestled over each other's. Their cocks slide inside with the help of some lube Dean pulled out of his jacket, the two of them having already worked you very open.

“Y/N, you were made for us,” moans Dean as you adjust around the two of them and then start to carefully bounce on their cocks. The three of you have never fucked like this before and you're still not sure why you are now. There's an energy in the room that's not normally been between the three of you quite like this before, but there's no way any one of you is in quite the right frame of mind to figure it out.

But the fullness of having both of them feels good and even though your legs are going to be aching so much after, you lower and rise, lower and rise--pumping the two brothers together. The tattoo stings on your thigh, but you continue to fuck Sam and Dean. Suddenly, Dean's hands reach up towards you and steady you. With the extra support, you can go faster. The three of you cry, the friction working through the three of you in just the right ways.

Sweat slicks the three of you and the air is filled with your shouts and moans. The whole motel complex can probably hear what you're doing as you fuck both Winchesters.

“Gonna--” Sam doesn't get to finish his sentence, because he shudders beneath you, coming hard and attempting to arch his back, but he can't quite due to the position. 

Dean manages to cry your name before he too spills inside of you. As they begin to soften, you stiffen and then scream, reaching your own orgasm. And then you're screaming louder, as a searing pain drives through your right thigh.

You must have blacked out, because the next thing you know, you're lying on the bed. Sam and Dean are naked beside you, faces filled with worry.

“Y/N, hey, you're back with us.” Sam strokes your face, but his eyes keep wandering to your thigh.

“You, okay?” Dean asks, clearly concerned.

Pushing Dean and Sam away, you sit up, leaning back on your arms. You bend your right knee and look down at your thigh. The brothers' names are struck through.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay in updating, but I was at Houscon last weekend.


	11. Salve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam thinks he’s found a way to remove the tattoo.

“It’s going to be okay, Y/N, ssssh,” Dean soothes as Sam finds something to help with the pain.

 _Damnit, is the counter enchantment still going to work?_ Sam worries as he feeds you some pain meds and a bottle of water. He keeps sharing looks with Dean, who looks just as concerned. Sure, Sam is a little irked that he just had sex with you and Dean was sliding in and out right beside him, but he’s more worried about how it all seemed to be tied with the tattoo’s enchantment.

It’s not a sex curse of something as cliché as that, but the information he’d finally dug up late last night suggested that you would need to collect a little part of each of the names for the enchantment to work. All-in-all it was too many levels of ick to let it carry on.

“What just… happened?” You ask weakly, blanket wrapped around your shoulders.

Dean glares at Sam with that look he knows so well, one that says, ‘seriously, what the hell?’ and Sam sighs and sits on the edge of the motel bed.

“The enchantment is what just happened and I hope the counter enchantment is still going to make a difference.” Sam rubs at his neck, trying to ease some of the tension that’s gathered in the muscles there.

“Are you saying I could wind up having sex with Crowley?”

Sam had been trying not to think about that. “Yes.”

The misery on your face then is more than Sam can handle. He scoots over and wraps his still naked arms around you. “We’re going to make this right.”

“So what’s the counter enchantment?” Dean asks, fishing around for his clothes on the floor.

“We need to get hold of a part of the person who cast it, grind it up into a salve with some heather and oak shavings, cover the affected area with it… Leave it for about a day and it should remove the tattoo.” Sam kisses the top of your head.

“But the alpha shapeshifter isn’t here,” you murmur.

Dean finishes pulling his boxers and jeans back on. “Doesn’t matter. All shapeshifters are descended from the alpha, they all have a part of it in them.”

“Exactly,” Sam kisses your cheek, trying to be reassuring, “so all we need to do, really, is find ourselves a shapeshifter and take some of their skin.”

“Don’t suppose you happen to know where one is?” Dean asks as he finishes getting his shirts back on.

“There’s been some suspicious activity in a small town near Wichita. I say we eat breakfast, swing back past the Bunker, grab what we need and head on out.” Sam kisses the top fo your head again. “That sound good, Y/N?”

You nod and Sam tries not to think about how just fifteen minutes ago he was being ridden at the same time as his brother. The fresh memory fails to stay away and Sam finds it hard to look Dean in the eyes.

***

Five hours later and you’re still not sure just how to assemble the morning’s events inside your head. You’d all been together before, but the enchantment had taken things to new levels. Guilt hangs heavy over you. The idea that you’d pushed the brothers into doing something that they wouldn’t normally do is something that you’re unable to put down and step away from.

Cooped up in the Impala for this long, you’ve insisted on winding a window down. Senses unable to handle all the olfactory information available to you.

Haysville looms into view and you try to run over the methods you know for tracking shapeshifters. Catching them on camera seemed to be about the only sure way of identifying them without gaining the kind of notice that slicing them with silver would. Sam’s made you sit up front with him and Dean, making the space seem incredibly small.

“Where’d you say this one had been operating out of?” Dean asks again.

“There’s an alternative health clinic in the city and some accusations of unconventional treatments being used. Something about a psychiatrist making people face their fears by facing themselves.” Sam looks at his cell to check something. “Several patients were entirely freaked out by the process and swear they saw their actual twin.”

“Seems kinda high profile for a shifter,” Dean replies, taking the Impala deeper into the main business district.

“And what does it get out of doing this anyway?” You ponder out loud.

“I gave up trying to understand the motives of shifters a long time ago,” Dean says. “If they’re not trying to make new ones by impregnating human women? Then they’re going completely cloud cuckoo or just ripping people off. All crap that draws attention to them.”

“But that works to our advantage.” You push back against Sam a little and he wraps his arms around you. You look up at Sam and give him a hopeful smile, his arms making you feel safe and wanted.

“Right. We know where to go and what to look out for.”

“What’s the alias they’re using?” Dean pulls the Impala up outside the clinic.

“Doctor Brewer,” Sam answers, unwinding himself from you. “And don’t think they’re just there to help people. Three of Brewer’s patients have died unexpectedly.”

***

The clinic is decorated in a minimalistic way, which surprised Dean when you all stepped inside. Hearing the word “alternative” he’d figured some kind of hippy thing would have been going and that you’d all be knee deep in bead curtains by now. But nope.

There’s little distance between you and Dean as the three of you stand at the front desk and check if Doctor Brewer has a free slot for the day to help do a preliminary assessment. Not that Dean wanted to give much credence to that threesome, on account of how up close and personal he’d gotten with his brother’s dick, but it was like it had torn down the wall between the two of you.

Sam had already hacked the good doctor’s calendar and made sure there was a slot.

“Actually,” the receptionist says, peering through her glasses at the calendar on her screen, “a slot has become available. If you’d just wait over there for fifteen minutes and fill out these, you’ll be able to see him.”

The receptionist hands over three clipboards and Dean takes them and grabs several pens too. The three of you head over to the waiting area and try to act normal. Dean starts filling his form out as you pull out your cell and discretely check the receptionist is human.

“Well?” Dean asks as he finishes filling in a fake name and address on his form.

“She’s human,” you reply, keeping your cell out and camera on, but making it look like you’re just using it as normal.

“What name did you give?” Sam asks, looking down at his form.

Dean shows you and Sam his form. “I’m Bill Harris, Y/N is Jade Flint and you’re Mike Harris. We’re involved in a polyamorous relationship where we’re two brothers with the same woman and need to just work through a rough patch.” Which wasn’t that far from the truth. “We’ve been together two years, but things have gotten a little strained of late and we’re not sure if we want group sessions or one-on-one.”

Sam shakes his head but smiles as he carefully balances the board and starts writing. “You’ve thought about this way too much.”

“Just in the car, I swear,” Dean replies and watches Sam look around them.

“Well there’s no security cameras,” Sam mutters as he continues filling out his form.

“Don’t start thinking this is going to be easy,” Dean replies, checking what you’re writing on the form. _We start thinking that and then that’s when we end up with the cops on our tails. Or worse._ Dean reflects on the comforting weight of his handgun in the back of his waistband. Loaded with silver bullets. There’s a dagger on his right leg and one hidden just inside his jacket.

“Doctor Brewer will see you now,” calls the receptionist. “Down the hall, first door on the left.”

***

“Jade, Bill, Mike.” Brewer shakes your hands in turn and smiles. Sam gives a small nervous smile back, playing his role. “Please sit down.”

Brewer looks like he’s in his forties and has some gray at his temples, mixing with his short brown hair.

Sam sits on your right and Dean on your left. He catches the image of Brewer on your phone and sees the glowing eyes just as the doctor finishes locking his door.

“May I ask that you put your cell away, Jade,” Brewer asks.

Elbowing you gently, Sam nods. “C’mon, Jade.”

“Fine, fine.” The cell is stowed.

Doctor Brewer gather the clipboards towards him. “So… you’re all together?”

“Yep,” Dean replies, voice confident.

“Even…” Brewer points between Sam and Dean.

Dean throws his hands up. “Us? No. We’re just seeing Jade at the same time.”

“B--being with Jade at the same time,” Sam adds nervously.

“Sorry. And you’re going through a rough patch?” Brewer continues.

“Yes,” Y/N replies, placing her hands on Sam and Dean’s knees. It’s just an act, but Sam enjoys the intimacy of it.

“Well, I do offer sessions for couples, but I have to say I’ve not assisted any, uh, polyamorous groups before.” Brewer smiles again, like a shark looking like it scents fresh prey.

“We’ve never been to therapy before, so it’s a first for everyone,” Dean pipes up. Sam watches Dean’s hand on your knee and notes four fingers are visible. Then it’s three.

Two.

One.

Dean launches forward first, followed by you. The two of you quickly tackle Brewer down to the ground with you covering the shifter’s mouth.

Slowly, Sam stands up and towers over the three of you. “I suggest you don’t bite Jade’s hand. Her blood kills shifters. Now… we’re gonna take some of your skin.”

There’s movement as Dean pulls out some rope and starts tying up Brewer’s hands and wrists.

The fear in the shifter’s eyes is clear. Sam stretches his neck. “Don’t suppose you’ll tell us what you did with the real Doctor Brewer?”

You take your hand off of Brewer’s mouth. “Screw you,” the shifter hisses.

“Have it your way.” Sam nods to you and you stuff a rag into the shifter’s mouth.

“Does he have to be alive for this?” You ask as you remain near the shifter’s head.

Nodding, Sam crouches down beside the shifter. “More likely the counter enchantment will work. Pull up one of his pant legs.”

Sam waits as you do what he asked. It’s all a means to an end, though Sam’s own skin is crawling. The whole thing feels like a cat playing with a mouse before it eats the mouse. There’s no pure hunt here, the scene too much like Sam’s torturing of the crossroads demon in his search for Dean.

“Do we cut?” Dean asks, pulling a silver dagger out of his jacket as you finish pulling up the shifter’s left pants leg.

Shaking his head, Sam points at the shifter’s shoe on the left leg. “Take off his shoe and sock.”

Your hands work quickly to comply.

“Jade,” Sam stands up, “I want you to open up one of those ziplock bags we brought along. Dean… if you’d pull on Brewer’s leg.”

Stomach churning a little, Sam looks away as Dean pulls at the skin on Brewer’s leg. The flesh easily giving away like it always does on shapeshifters, wetly ripping and tearing.

_This better work._

***

The Bunker is still, but welcoming as the three of you walk from the garage back towards the incident room. You’re trying not to dwell too much on the day’s events, though first thing wasn’t too bad. Though thinking about it helps to blot out the stench of stress hanging between the three of you.

Dean’s got all the parts for the counter enchantment in a bag. You walk behind him, holding onto Sam’s left hand. If this had been the previous day, you would have been on edge being so close to Dean for so long, but now? It almost feels like before. Almost. _Weird what an enchantment induced threesome can do_ , you think bitterly.

Putting everything down on the table, Dean gets you to track down a glass bowl--”Not from the kitchen!”--to mix everything in. Finding something suitable in the old laboratories, you head back and put it down on the map table.

Patiently, you sit down at the table and let Sam and Dean work. Watching their every move. _This is going to work_ , you keep telling yourself over and over, trying to stave off visions of the morning repeating, with Crowley or Castiel or Jody instead.

The guys make swift work of mixing up the salve. Nervously, you pull down your jeans and expose the tattoo. Dean heaps the salve onto a dressing pad and then lowers it onto the rune scripted names.

“Here, hold it in place,” Dean instructs and then picks up a bandage. Slowly, he wraps it around your leg and secures it in place with a safety pin.

Sam starts a timer on his cell. “This time tomorrow, we’re gonna see if it’s worked.”

“Right… welcome to the longest twenty four hours of my life.”

Dean slaps your shoulder reassuringly. “Least you got us.”

***

Back in the clinic, Dean had felt the low burn of the Mark. Calling for him to do so much more than just stab the shapeshifter in the chest. He hadn’t wanted to freak you out again, wanted so desperately to shield you from that--through sheer will he’d stopped himself. Not that Dean is sure he can always do that.

The three of you are sat on Sam’s bed, with you in the middle. There’s some Netflix Originals series on. Some time ago, Dean would have been avidly watching it with you and Sam. But he can’t shake off how he’d felt sinking that blade in.

“Dean?” You poke Dean.

“Huh, what?” Dean glances into your eyes.

“Do you fancy some ice cream?”

“Uhhh, sure.”

You smile and shimmy off the bed, head out the bedroom and Sam pauses the show.

“You’re miles away,” Sam observes, giving Dean a searching look.

Dean pushes himself up against the headboard more. “Been a long day.”

“You know you can… talk to me, right?”

 _No, Sammy, we are not doing this now_. “Yeah and we are so not doing this right now.”

Sam sighs. “The offer’s there.”

Just as Dean’s about to reply, you walk back into the room, carrying a carton of chocolate ice cream and three spoons.

“You guys okay?” You ask as you climb back up on the bed.

“Peachy,” Dean replies, taking his spoon as Sam starts up the show again. Cautiously, Dean wraps an arm around your shoulders, seeing if you tense, but to his relief you don’t. And just for a moment, he allows himself to hope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay in getting a new chapter out. I'm finding it really hard to keep going with this story at the moment and not just because of all the Big Bangs I'm working on. I've got an idea for an how to get towards some sort of ending, and that's what I'm working towards at the moment.


	12. You are loved

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The mood turns sour in the Bunker. Dean and Sam have to show you that they still love you.

Sweat trickles down your brow and your skin feels like it’s on fire all over. The mattress beneath is never quite comfortable enough and as Dean wipes your face with a cool wash cloth you try to smile at him in thanks. But moving any of your muscles hurts right now and instead you wince.

“Sam?!” Dean asks, voice clearly raised in worry.

In a distant corner of Sam’s room, you see him pacing with a book in his hands, lips silently moving as he reads to himself, a finger tracking over the printed pages. His finger jabs at a page.

“Upon the final hours of removal, the salve will induce a fever in the subject as their body is used to help burn out the remnants of the enchantment.” Sam looks up from the book and gives you a sympathetic smile. “Sorry, Y/N, but this is completely normal.”

You feel, more than see, Dean shake his head. “Well then she’s only got an hour left.”

Sam nods. “Then we’ll know if it’s worked.”

If the preceding twenty three hours had been long, then this final hour of waiting stretches itself out ahead of you. Ignorant of your suffering and seeing no need to speed itself up as the the fever seizes your body.

***

When you became unresponsive, Sam did begin to worry, but you were still breathing so he took some relief from that. Now dabbing at your forehead with a cool washcloth, Dean sat on the other side of you, drawing circles over the back of your hand, Sam finds himself praying that the salve has worked.

It’s been some time since he prayed. But after what happened with Lester, Sam was no longer sure if he deserved to reach out for help and hope. Watching the salve affect you like this, though, Sam has decided that he can pray for you. Not least because he doesn’t want you to end up crawling into bed with Crowley, though he’s indifferent about Castiel or Jody becoming so intimately involved.

 _But we’ve hardly figured out what’s going on between the three of us_ , Sam thinks bitterly, eyes catching Dean’s fingers moving over and over, _I’d kinda want to keep the weird hook ups to a minimum._ Sam dips the washcloth into the bowl of water beside his bed, cooling it anew, and brings it to your forehead again.

 _And if I ever see the Alpha Shapeshifter again… If I somehow end up in Purgatory… I am going to cut his head off myself and leave his remains for the Leviathans_ , Sam decides right then. _No one gets to do this kind of shit to you, no one._

A whimper works its way out of you, but you don’t wake. Sam starts making hushing, soothing noises and Dean catches his eye again.

“You know, maybe… maybe we should look into how… polyamory works? For when our crap’s sorted,” Dean says suddenly.

Breath catching a little, Sam nods. “You’re right…” Sam feels a slight pang, wondering if the three of you would ever have kids.

“‘Course, once this mystical tattoo is out of the way… should probably try to find a way to get rid of mine,” Dean adds, tone half-joke, half-serious.

There definitely was so much they still needed to do.

***

Dean can’t help the smile as you open your eyes, the fever breaking and Sam’s cell alarm sounding.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Dean says quietly. “Feeling better?”

You nod and then try sitting up, but your body must be exhausted as you don’t seem to have the energy left to shift yourself. Spotting that you want to sit, Dean’s hands work their way under your arms and help lift you up.

Pulling the bedsheets down, Dean lets Sam give you a glass of water as he checks the bandage around your right thigh. “Time for this to come off.”

“Here,” Sam says, passing Dean a pair of medical scissors.

Taking the scissors, Dean carefully lines them up with the bandage and then starts cutting through the elasticated fabric, staying away from the pad that had had the salve. He could cut faster, but he doesn’t really fancy getting this salve all over the place the smell of it now really beginning to hit him. _Who knew bits of shifter could smell like crap after a day?_

Pad free of the bandage, Dean carefully scoops the pad into his hand and gets off of Sam’s bed. “I’m just gonna find a trashcan far away from here. Be right back.”

Dean almost runs as he leaves Sam’s room, the stench of the salve making his stomach churn. In his haste to get the pad out of the way though, he’d not even bothered to check the tattoo. So when he comes back, three minutes later, it’s to a room where you’re sobbing and Sam is rubbing circles into your back.

“What’s wrong?” Dean asks, sitting down beside you and Sam. He’s not sure why he’s asking, because a sinking feeling in his stomach is telling what he already knows.

“It’s still there,” Sam answers frustratedly.

***

Sam, Dean and you are in the library, reading more lore, trying to find another way to removed the tattoo. You’ve been staring at the page in front of you for ten minutes now. Feeling a little numb to it all. Worried about what could happen. It just seems too much and your mind is trying to shut down a little rather than work the problem, because the problem seems impossible. Too huge and complicated to have a solution.

 _Would it really be that bad to let the Alpha return?_ You wonder as the words on the page in front of you becoming a swirling mass of nonsense. You slam the book shut, causing Dean and Sam to flinch as they sit opposite you.

“Woah, you okay, Y/N?” Sam asks, clearly concerned.

Huffing out a breath, you get up from your seat and stretch, trying to drive away the numbness in your limbs. “Would it be… would it really be that bad to just let the Alpha come back? Just let the enchantment take its course and then kill the Alpha, sending it back to Purgatory again?”

Silence. You look to Sam and Dean’s faces. Dean looks shocked. But Sam? Sam’s face has grown dark as fury overrides his features.

“YOU ARE NOT SLEEPING WITH CROWLEY!” Sam shouts. “Cas and Jody would be bad enough. BUT I WILL BE DAMNED IF I LET CROWLEY GET HIS HANDS ON YOU!”

“You can stop shouting now,” you reply, clearly unimpressed with Sam’s outburst.

Dean holds a hand up to his brother to try and ground him, but Sam shakes it off.

Gritting your jaw, tired already of all this crap, you start walking out of the library. “If anybody needs me, I’ll be in _my room_ ,” you call over your shoulder and disappear.

It doesn’t take long to get back to your own room, but as you open and close the door behind you, switching on a lamp to drive away the dark, you find yourself shivering. Not because the room is really cold, but because it’s unlived in. The bedroom is yours in name only. You’ve hardly slept in it in the time you’ve been welcome in the Bunker. It’s a glorified storage space with the few things from your grandfather’s old shop, from your old life, that you couldn’t stand to part with, occupying the draws and shelves of the room.

Sitting on the musty bed, you look up into those shelves now. There’s a pickled griffon's claw floating in a jar, liquid yellow and toxic. A couple of sample boards for identifying herbs, preserved plants staked down on cardboard and sealed behind plastic, names and features written underneath in your own careful hand. It was one of the first things you had made and studied when your grandfather had been teaching you alchemy.

And beside the board is a circular black leather case, about a foot in diameter and nearly a third of that deep. You know what’s inside: an old silver sickle that you would use to gather herbs when collecting in the wild. There was nothing special about it, though it had a wickedly sharp edge.

Getting up from your bed, you amble over to the case and pull it down from the shelf. Setting the case on your desk, you flip its clasps open and draw the lid up. The silver sickle gleams in the lamp light, not a single piece of it tarnished. You pick it up by its firm handle and allow its curved blade to fill your vision.

 _Perhaps… perhaps this would go deep enough_ , you think. Undoing your jeans with one hand, you allow them to drop to the floor and step out of them. Pain was something you would feel, but if the tattoo and curse would be gone, then--you look at the shining blade--it would be worth it.

***

“We should go after her,” Sam says simply, guilt sitting in him like a stone.

Dean pushes his chair out from beside Sam. “Well come on then.”

“Right.” Sam pushes his chair out and walks with Dean into the depths of the Bunker, following the way to what is meant to be your room.

The sobs are audible once they reach it. Dean knocks on the door, but it’s Sam who calls out, “Y/N, can we talk, please?”

More sobs. There’s a strange note to the air, now that Sam thinks about it. Something that doesn’t smell quite right, making the hairs stand on the back of his neck. Panic replacing guilt, Sam knocks on the door this time.

“Y/N, can we talk?” Sam calls through the door, but all he gets in reply is more sobbing.

Dean frowns at him and tries the handle, but it’s locked. “Something isn’t right here,” Dean states, clearly getting the same vibe that Sam is.

“Y/N, open the door or we’ll open it for you,” Dean says calmly through the wood.

Still the only reply is more crying. Dean backs up and looks ready to kick the door open, but Sam holds up his one good hand and brings out his lockpick set.

“Can you pick the lock?”

Rolling his eyes, Dean nods and takes the set before bending down in front of the door. Dean’s not quite as fast a lockpicker as Sam is, but Sam can’t hold the tools in the necessary position with his arm still busted up like it is.

It seems to take forever, when it’s really only seven seconds, and Dean finally opens the door. The door swings forward and Sam and Dean walk into your room, expecting to find you on the bed. Seeing you’re not there, Sam quickly turns to the corner of the floor you’re sat on and then he realizes what the weird smell was.

You’re sat in a large pool of blood, legs covered in it and a silver sickle is in your right hand. You haven’t moved from your position while you continue to cry. Sam takes a step closer and then feels his stomach lurch. There’s a hole on your right thigh where the tattoo was, but the skin is quickly growing back--he can see the flesh knitting itself across muscle--dermal layers and tattoo returning as the flesh grows back.

Beside you are six hunks of tattooed skin. Bloody and still with the tattoo on them.

“I can’t cut it out,” you say between your tears, seeming to become aware of Sam and Dean. “It just grows back… I don’t know if it’s the elixir doing it, or the curse or both. But it keeps coming back. It won’t go away. I just want it to go away. Please. I don’t want it. Please.”

“Dean, get some gloves for us…” Sam tries to think what to do. They’re still not sure how potent your blood is. “Y/N, do you think you could stand up for me, please?”

***

Getting you to the bathroom had been easy, though it had been hard for Dean to not touch you. To not reach out a reassuring hand and coax you back to your usual warmth. Instead Dean uses gloved hands to help you strip out of your remaining clothes, which he then promptly bags up, ready for disposal. Sam’s back in your room trying to one handedly clean up the worst of the blood so that it doesn’t hurt anyone.

Turning the water on in one generously sized cubicle, Dean’s eyes trail down your body, still finding you beautiful despite the pain that you’re clearly in. Checking that the water is warm enough, Dean helps you step in under the spray and pulls the shower curtain across so that you can have your privacy.

Dean doesn’t go far and watches your blood swirl away down the drain as he looks at the shower floor. You don’t say anything, but then you cry out and Dean’s in the shower, clothes still on and holding you tight as you shiver and sob.

There’s still some of your blood on you, but Dean doesn’t seem to notice as he holds you under the spray so you stay warm, but keeping it out of your face. His clothes become sodden pretty quickly, but Dean stays there and continues to stroke your back.

Hands landing on his belt and flies shock Dean and he looks down at you in surprise as you suddenly work to undress him.

“Hey, hey, Y/N, what are you--”

“Want you, Dean. Please. Wanna feel you. Please,” you whimper, hands now working on the buttons of his sodden shirt. “Want to feel loved.”

And Dean can’t say no, not as his favorite baby girl pleads with him. He helps you get him out of the rest of his clothes, waterlogged boots kicked out under the stall, and then you’re kissing.

Your lips are soft and pleading on Dean’s, and he kisses you back with a needy ferocity that he didn’t know was there inside him. Cradling the back of your head in his hand, Dean pulls you tight against him and relishes the feeling of your wet skin against his. The way your lips move against his, demanding what you once had, pleading for it, and Dean can’t help complying. As he gets hard, rubbing his dick against your stomach, Dean finally decides to pick you up and drapes your legs around his waist.

Dean wants to show you so much that you’re loved and he grips onto you tight as you wrap around his body. Wants to show you that the demon he was, was never him. The mark burns on Dean’s arm, but he pushes past that and finally takes you out of the shower, turning it off as he goes. Dean grabs a towel and throws it down on a counter before placing you on top.

“Dean,” you whimper as he moves his face from your mouth and down towards your folds.

***

The second Dean’s tongue touches your already wet and aching lips, you scream and grab onto his hair. It’s a different kind of need that fills you now, in comparison to the previous day. This need wants the tenderness of physical love, and as Dean’s capable hands pull you apart and enable his tongue to sink into you, you cry and circle your hips.

Wanting more. “Need you, Dean,” you gasp as his tongue laps at your clit. _Need Sam too._

Almost as if reading your thoughts, Dean travels back up your body and kisses you, letting you taste yourself, feel how wet you are.

Dean grabs at another towel and dries you off in-between kisses and then himself. Sweat replaces water and you kiss Dean back, still needing more. Still wanting him and Sam.

“C’mon,” Dean says in a gravelly voice, picking you up again. But this time, instead of just your legs curling around his waist, Dean lets you slide onto his hard cock. You cry out from the fullness of it and bite at his neck.

“Fuck, Y/N!” Dean yells and thrusts up into you. His hardness grounds you, reasserting a reality where you are definitely wanted, but you still need more.

“Dean,” you whimper and the older Winchester seems to get the message. Hands holding you against him so you can’t go anywhere, Dean carries you out of the bathroom and towards the bedrooms.

“SAM!” Dean hollers, making Sam pop his head out of his bedroom.

You hear some kind of strangled noise and then another hand is on you. Large and eager, warm and comforting.

“Need you,” you beg Sam as his hand reaches your face and strokes your cheek.

Dean thrusts up into you and you cry out. “My room now,” Dean orders.

Out of the corner of your eye you watch Sam follow, his cheeks flushed and own desire clear to see.

A door opens and a light is switched on. Dean places you down on his bed and kisses you, hips gently thrusting as he moves in and out of you. The bed shifts and a naked Sam, bad arm limp at his side, replaces Dean’s lips and Sam starts to kiss you.

Dean moves into a kneeling position and the head of his cock grazes your g-spot, making you cry into Sam’s mouth. Keeping a steady rhythm, reading the way your legs clench around him and your stomach muscles flutter, Dean fucks into you while Sam’s mouth stays with yours.

“Said she wanted to feel loved, Sam. Y/N’s loved, isn’t she?” Dean asks, hips strong and sure as they move Dean in and out of you. Driving away the uselessness of your situation with the tattoo, making it feel like you have a chance. A choice.

Pulling away from your mouth for just a second, Sam smiles and kisses your nose. “So very loved, Y/N, so, very, very loved.” Sam’s lips come to yours again before you can reply and move insistently, his tongue mimicking Dean’s cock inside of you.

Dean stops thrusting for a brief second, causing you to whimper into Sam’s mouth, but then he starts circling his hips, making his cock go around in circles inside of you. Over and over. Friction feeding the pressure building inside of you as he coaxes you towards orgasm. And then his hips snap back to thrusting in and out of you, faster than before, and that’s it. Your orgasm hits you, making your thighs shudder and stealing your breath as you cry into Sam’s welcoming mouth.

“So loved!” Dean cries as he follows his orgasm with his own, pumping inside of you.

Feeling a little boneless, you slowly regain movement of your arms and legs. Sam pulls away from your mouth and kisses you on the cheek.

“Think you can handle round two?” Sam asks sweetly.

Nodding, you watch as Dean crawls out from between your legs and then Sam helps you up. Sam’s hard cock catches the side of your thigh as you kneel on Dean’s bed.

“Sorry,” Sam says, “but I need you to do the hard work.”

Glancing at his bad arm, you nod. “Don’t mind.”

Sam’s moved into the middle of the bed, and you straddle him before slowly sinking onto his waiting cock. You feel a shiver of pleasure run through Sam and you lean forward, hands either side of his head, and kiss. The bed dips behind you and Dean’s arms wrap around your torso.

Breaking the kiss, you kneel back before raising yourself and lowering yourself again. Dean’s hands find your breasts and he caresses them from behind, mouth at your neck.

“Dean…” you moan.

“Thought,” Dean says between kisses and bites at your neck, “we could give… Sam… a little show.”

And so Dean helps you rise and lower yourself again and again, hands wandering over you as Sam’s good hand grips your right thigh. Eyes fixed on yours, Sam’s breathing is hitched as you work him in and out of you.

Dean’s right hand suddenly slips down your stomach and settles between your folds, finger rubbing at your clit. You watch Sam’s eyes go wide at that and the breathy moan that escapes him makes you start to rise and lower yourself a little faster. Pleasure building from that nub of nerves as Dean works you and Sam fills you, you know you won’t last much longer.

Brushing his fingertips against your left nipple at just the right moment, Dean suddenly works you to orgasm and you scream for him, for Sam. Throwing his head back, Sam yells as he comes, pumping inside of you, hips lifting up a little despite the joint weight of you and Dean on him.

You look down into Sam’s eyes, bliss warming you, and you see the love and longing that you drew you in, in the first place. Dean climbs off the bed and then helps everyone get in under the covers, with you snuggled up between the two Winchesters.

“So, do you feel loved?” Sam asks.

You kiss Sam lightly on his lips and then turn to Dean and do the same to him. “Yes. Yes I feel loved.”

That brings joint smiles to the brothers’ faces and you cuddle with them until you realize you should go pee. Shifting out of the bed covers to meet nature’s call, you spot the Mark of Cain on Dean’s arm and frown a little before making your way to the bathroom.

Once you return and see the mark again on Dean’s arm, you can’t help thinking about it. What it does. What it enables. And it’s with these thoughts, of death and power, swirling away in your head that you fall into a deep sleep, body shielded by the men that love you and you love in return.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had some time to work on this today after reaching a big point in my Wincest BB fic. I am definitely working on the endgame for In your veins.

**Author's Note:**

> Please remember to give some kudos if you've enjoyed this so far. And I endeavor to read and respond to all comments. You can reach me on Tumblr over at [Dreams from the Bunker.](http://dreamsfromthebunker.tumblr.com)
> 
> This fic is not being updated until further notice.
> 
> For when that time comes, subscribe to keep updated.


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